The Zerg Triumvirate
by RahXephon
Summary: The Koprulu Sector hunted the Zerg Swarm to extinction, but missed a couple of survivors. On the primal world of Ashantu, a race of forgotten humans live a daily life of struggle against the powerful beasts called Ravagers that rules much of the surface. It is here that three individuals are chosen to reconstitute the Swarm. Rygel is one of the Chosen of the Goddess of Hunger. AU.
1. I-V: Introduction to Hunger

May 24, 2013  
Not Proofread  
Written By RahXephon [847246]

**Author's Notes**: There's a noticeable trend in StarCraft fanfiction where the Zerg Swarm is reincarnated in some fashion on an original fantasy world. I've pretty much read them all, and decided to try my own spin on this genre. I'm doing something slightly different than usual though and write in 1000-word drabble sequences. As if it wasn't obvious, this fic is inspired by East Bridge's _The Zerg Swarm_, Heir of Empires' _The Rising Swarm_, VexMaster's _The Swarm of War_, Winter Feline's _The Swarm Patriarch_, Yoshtar's _The Second Coming of the Swarm_.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own StarCraft. This is a fan-based work of fiction and I do not earn any income from this effort.

* * *

_**The Zerg Triumvirate**_

_I – Introduction_

* * *

The galaxy is a vast an unforgiving place. From the eternal forge of the galactic center, to the turmoil and slaughter of the Koprulu Sector, the winds of battle never cease.

The resourceful race of humans known collectively as Terrans marshaled their mastery over machinery to halt the onslaught of foreign invaders.

The prideful aliens known as Protoss held the tide against their ancient enemies with their resonance of psionic talents.

And threatening them both, the endless Swarm of the Zerg battered their defenses with innumerable biological threats. Led by a former Terran, the Queen of Blades wrought vengeance upon the civilized races for the scars they inflicted upon her body and soul. Yet time and time again the Terrans and the Protoss stood in her way, denying her the satisfaction she craved with all her atrophied heart.

With fire and storm, the unforgiving races culled the numbers of the Swarm, liberating planet after planet and scouring those that were beyond their means to save. Taking losses after losses, the Queen of Blades sought refuge in her sanctuary, her fortress, until even there her bitter enemies blasted their way through. Cornered like a rat, the heir to the Overmind of the Zerg faced the inevitable.

Her end.

At the fall of the supreme intelligence of the psionic Swarm, the remnants of this once mighty collective of races turned feral. With the head cut off from the body, the lesser species of the Swarm was no match to the determination and firepower of the Terrans and Protoss. It seemed the once-mighty Zerg would meet an ignoble end, eradicated from the face of the galaxy like pests.

Yet as the last influence of the Zerg ceased to exist in the Koprulu Sector, all was not at an end. The Queen of Blades, the former psionic 'Ghost' operative known as Sarah Kerrigan, was always first and foremost a survivor. An individual with such talent and vision never went into battle without a plan behind her plans. For it was clear to her that death was all too real.

The Swarm was vast and diverse. While the Queen of Blades poured most of her resources into the Koprulu Sector, she had not put all her eggs in one basket. She took the time to enact certain contingency plans, in case the unthinkable occurred.

One such contingency arrived at the world known to the Terran natives as Ashantu, the seed of the Goddess Lamarantia. This was a lush and vibrant world of diverse climates and fauna. From dry and arid deserts, to gigantic rainforests and plains, this mysterious world seemed fit for human habitation. Though much larger than the ancestral homeworld of humanity, the feudal societies that settle this planet thrived from the abundant resources this paradise had to offer.

If not for the indigenous life that harvested many lives beyond the protective walls of humanity's settlement, they might have grown to become the dominant race of Ashantu. Beyond their limited territory, strange and terrible creatures ruled the wilderness. As the masters of Ashantu long before the mysterious transplantation of the Terrans, they ruled the lands with strength, cruelty and powers beyond the comprehension of either technology or psionics.

For these great and powerful creatures wielded the energies of life that Ashantu bestows, and reaped terror to man and beast alike. Great Sand Dragons commanded the power of the soil itself, and could drown any passing being in an ocean of desert. Great cat-like prowlers ruled the endless forests with their mastery over sonic vibrations. Coming in virtually every size, these beasts known to the local humans as Ravagers were the undisputable rulers of Ashantu. Under their harsh and unrelenting reign, merely living another day was a challenge to all but the most prosperous settlements that dotted the primal planet.

Humanity, though, was more resilient than anyone initially thought. The fruits of Ashantu changed and warped the descendants of Earth as readily as they did the local wildlife. Over time, a small number of gifted individuals have been blessed with powers beyond mortal comprehension. In the beliefs of the persistent survivors, these fortunate individuals were either blessed by Zorandar, the God of Rage, or by Cilistine, Goddess of Temperance.

Those blessed by Zorandar found their strength to be fueled by rage and passion. The more they fed their emotions into their bodies, the more strength, speed and agility they wielded. On the other hand, those touched by Cilistine found that they could warp the nature of reality itself if they subsumed their identity to the Silent Song, the eternal tune spun by the hands of Gods and Goddesses.

At this stage of humanity's evolution of Ashantu, every human being could tap into either Gods in a minor fashion. Only one in many thousands could properly turn their bodies into a furnace of emotion, and even rarer still were those that had the ears for the Silent Song. These extraordinary warriors and mages formed the nexus of civilization on the planet, banding themselves and their relatively powerless servants into villages, towns and great cities. Only the most powerful or the most favored by those powerful had the privilege to live in the safety of the great cities. Everyone else were forced to live out their means at the frontier beyond the city gates, where monsters and other terrors prowled eternally for more and more prey.

It was here that the story of the Zerg begins yet again. While the natives of Ashantu saw the rain of meteorites as an omen of the Gods, for the Zerg, it represented a second chance. A chance to live again and thrive, to one day take up the legacy of the Queen of Blades and expand the Swarm from planet to planet, sun to sun.

* * *

_II – Call to Arms_

* * *

Rygel of Steepwood tinkered with his ill-fitting armor, wondering how long the march went on. Dozens of youths from the villages of Steepwood and nearby were barely keeping up with the brisk pace of their commander, Sir Deacon. _'Just because Zorandar gifted you with strong legs doesn't mean commoners such as us can walk around this fast!'_

As if to answer his silent prayer, Sir Deacon held out a fist, commanding his troop to halt. "Alright lads, I think you deserve a break. Stretch out your limbs and catch up your breath. We'll resume after half a glass. Guard rotation is as usual."

Virtually everyone under his command slumped at those long-anticipated words. Half a sandglass of time was a Godsend to many of them. Even though the young men received training and conditioning from birth due to the necessity of their harsh environment, they were miles apart from the professionally trained armies of the great cities. Commoner militiamen like Rygel were no match to city troops with their standard-issued leather armor, iron sword and wooden shields, let alone the Blessed of Zorander or Cilistine. The only thing that they were truly useful for were manning the walls of their villages, or react first to whatever emergency happened nearby. The village of Steepwood, while nominally claimed by the Kingdom of Brightfall, was separated from the capital by a hundred leagues.

So when the skies of the night tore up in reddish streaks of flames and landed further into the woods of Brightfall with a resounding impact, everyone was roused. Sir Deacon, the local knight of Steepwood, immediately commanded the surrounding villages to muster arms to investigate the Heaven-sent occurrence.

"We have to reach the impact site first." Sir Deacon stressed as dawn had broken at the village gate. "There's no way in Zorandar's name we'll let the Blackgroves right over the border get their hands on the star rocks first. The Gods have chosen to lay their blessings on _our_ lands, not theirs."

The great cities shelled out lots of coin for star rocks, and as a man under the knight who retrieved such materials, Rygel stood to gain a decent cut himself. That was why he and his fellow militiamen didn't grumble as much as usual. _'With just a handful of gold coins, I can finally afford a passage out of Steepwood.'_ He could then finally apply himself in a larger town, where his skills as a newly minted blacksmith could be put to better use than the backwater of his birthplace.

'_New sights, new people, new girls…'_

"Hey!" A hand slammed against his back, almost knocking the young man over. "Here. Fresh from the stream."

"Thanks." Rygel said and accepted the skin of freshly-filled water. The taste was nasty, and he didn't want to know how rarely his best friend cleaned his waterskins. After a couple of hearty gulps he handed the skin back. "So what do you think? Will we ever get to see a chunk or two?"

Gerald shrugged. "Only the Gods know. I can sure use the bounty though. My gambling debts are piling up again."

"Haha! You and your games. Are you ever going to grow out of it?"

"Hey, a year or two ago you were just the same!"

"There's a difference, though. I grew up." Rygel remarked, and then bent over to adjust the straps to his boots.

"Hey!" Gerald grumped in mock indignation. "Is that how you treat your—"

Finding it strange that his friend suddenly fell silent, Rygel abandoned his attempt to tame his gear and reared up to meet the startled eyes of his buddy.

"Ghr.. Gluck.."

Only to see an arrow lodged right through his throat. Rygel was stunned, unable to move as he met Gerald's desperate gaze, then shift to the hands that clumsily pawed at the arrow that refused to disappear. With a final, designated stare, Rygel's childhood friend collapsed on his face, never to draw another breath on this world again.

"What.. in Zorandar.. happened..?"

Half-a-dozen arrows struck again, flying almost unerringly in the soft tissues of Rygel's fellow militiamen. Sir Deacon was the first to react. "AMBUSH! Men, to arms! Get your shields up and get into formation!"

As soon as those words sounded, Rygel scrabbled for his rickety shield and prayed it would hold against the arrows. Three arrows thunked against his protection, one of them piercing clean through but fortunately missing the forearm clasped against the rear. Almost panicking, Rygel faltered in his steps, unable to reach the burgeoning shield wall that Deacon hastily organized. While most arrows deflected harmlessly off the sea of shields, one series of arrows always punched clean through to strike the villager behind. Deacon grew more frustrated with each fallen man.

"They have a bow master!" One of them uttered with fear, probably right since no ordinary commoner could draw bows that launched arrows with such strength. Just the word that the enemy might have one of the Blessed of Zorander in their midst plummeted their spirits.

"Blessed or not!" Deacon bellowed as he raised his steel shield to deflect an arrow meant for his face. "Even bow masters fall to cold iron! Charge!"

With a scattering of warcries, the militiamen followed their knight to the edge of the clearing. While discipline wasn't very tight in their troop, at that singular moment each man was intent on ending the archer menace and taking vengeance for their fallen comrades. Even Rygel was subsumed in the rage that tore at his heart, allowing him to catch up just behind Sir Deacon.

Unfortunately, the only thing his haste accomplished was to see his commander fall as an arrow punched through his steel armor and penetrated his heart. Before Rygel could utter another cry, the next arrow parted his leather armor as if it was nothing and tore into his abdomen.

He knew nothing else after that, and collapsed in unimaginable pain.

* * *

_III – Chosen_

* * *

For a time, Rygel knew nothing else but the arrow planted firmly in his guts. Lacking the strength to even lift his arms, the villager could do nothing else but stare at the heavens as his fellow men in arms died to the flurry of arrows from beyond. Their screams ripped the otherwise pleasant morning and turned this expedition from a hopeful one to a venture of death. He could spare nothing for his fellow fallen friends, not even his sympathies for his mind was obsessed with the arrow lodged in front of his glazing eyes.

Many minutes after, when the final sounds of battle dimmed, the clearing was filled with nothing but agonized screams like his. Footsteps eventually emerged, initially far away, but the sounds slowly neared his position. Finding himself marginally curious even as his lifeblood left his body, Rygel strained his ears to sense what was happening just beyond his vision. He heard whispers, a bit of rustling, and a few gasped screams as some of his fellow villagers received a mercy stroke.

It wasn't long before one of their few illusive attackers reached his side. The ugly, scarred face that pitted itself in front of Rygel was a wolf of a man, unkempt, unclean and smelling as foul as the arse-side of a Ravager. His front was covered with a cloth tabard, showing a white forest in a plane of black. _'The emblem of Blackgrove.'_ The man's twisted lips snarled into a gleeful smile and patted the arrow.

"You're a lucky one. Your death will be slow, but sure. There's no saving you from an arrow in the gut."

Rygel growled, but lifted his chin, exposing his neck. _'End my suffering quickly.'_

"Oh, the lad wants a mercy kill? Well, tough luck kid, I don't waste my time with sure deaths. You just lay quietly there while I lift your pockets of valuables."

The Blackgrover's cruel laugh taunted his ears as Rygel could feel the man's rough hands rifling through his pockets and clothes. He wasn't a rich man by any means, but his eyes practically filled with red as his attacker found the silver ring he hung on his neck. It was all he had of his mother, who left Steepwood as soon as he secured an apprenticeship with the village blacksmith and moved in with him. "That.. that's my mother's!"

"And now it's mine." The man responded and placed a foul kiss on the magnificently shaped jewelry.

Never in his life did Rygel pay much attention to the Gods, but after seeing the Blackgrover saunter to another corpse to rob, he wanted nothing else than to call upon Zorandar to give him strength to get back his mother's ring. _'Zorandar, hear my plea! I have nothing to give than my rage, and I give it all to you. Give me strength to lift up my limbs and strike down that Blackgrove bastard. Give me this, and I will give you my soul!'_

Yet as Rygel willed himself to move, the Blackgrovers calmly continued to loot the dead and dying as if they were strolling through a town. Tears welled up in his sagging eyes as Rygel as he felt his life slipping away. Even with all his prayers and pleas, Zorandar hadn't seen fit to even lend him a sliver of power. He felt utterly abandoned by the Gods that he had always left precious portions of food at their altars. _'Is this all the thanks.. you give me.. for my sacrifice..?'_

Rygel gave up, and ceased to struggle with the arrow in his gut. He lay back, and stared at the heavens, not to meet it, but to spite it. _'I don't want to live among you if you treat your worshippers like this. Flame upon you, Zorandar! Flame upon you, Cilistine!'_

Long after the looters left the battlefield and disappeared back into the forest, Rygel waited for his suffering to end. Just as he was about to close his sullen eyes for the last time of his short and ignoble life, he felt a strange sensation brush his chin. Straining himself, Rygel turned his eyes downwards, only to gaze upon a slithering creature atop his chest.

The worm was a repugnant creature, a larva of some kind that was too large to be anything but a spawn of a fearsome Ravager. The slimy beast chittered at his face, its sharp bony mandibles snapping at his eyes.

"Are.. are you here to eat me..? Go ahead.. I have nothing else.. just promise me.. if you mature.. take my vengeance upon Blackgrove. Use my flesh.. to feed my desire."

'_An admirable sentiment.'_ A strange and disembodied voice rang inside his mind.

"Wh.. what..?" Did the Ravager actually speak to him? But they were merely beasts!

The voice, a female Rygel realized, huffed a laugh. _'You have no idea what I am and what the larva before you represents.'_

"Are you.. a God? A Goddess?"

He was met with the same laughter. _'Of the sort. Not the blind Zorandar or the uncaring Cilistine you are familiar with, but something much more primal. You see, young Rygel, I am Kerrigan, the Queen of Blades, the Heart of the Swarm.'_

While Rygel was ready to accept anything offered by a Goddess who didn't ignore him, he also wanted to know a little bit more about 'Kerrigan', the Goddess he had never once heard before. _'What.. is your realm, and what.. do you ask of me?'_

'_My realms were once vast, and will be once again with you at my side. As for now, to put it into the pitiful perspective of your primitive mind, I am the Goddess of Hunger, the desire to consume. I offer you a chance to be my agent, a Prince in your own right, and provide you with the means to take vengeance upon the forces of Blackgrove.'_

'_Y-Your price..?'_

The foul worm brushed his lips, causing Rygel to shudder in revulsion despite his near-death state. _'Nothing much, beyond your everlasting soul and your pledge to serve my Swarm. Once you accept my offer, you will be my embodiment, my right-hand man. No other God or Kingdom will ever have a hold on you again.'_

While he held a nominal affection for the Kingdom of Brightfall, he cared little for it since he never once even saw the great city. As for the Gods… the choice was easy. _'Lady Kerrigan, my soul is yours. I pledge to serve you and your 'Swarm' for all of eternity if you grant me power.'_

'_So be it. Prepare yourself, and receive the essence of the Swarm!'_

The worm kicked back, then launched itself into Rygel's gaping mouth. The dying youth screamed at the intrusive sensation before a spiking pain caused him to mercifully pass out.

The commoner known as Rygel ceased to exist. In its place was born a Prince of the Zerg.

* * *

_IV – The Swarm_

* * *

'_The Swarm.. the Zerg.. there is nothing else than us..'_

The consciousness of Rygel woke up, not in his physical body, but in a plane of existence known to neither man or God. Rygel could not sense his own body. He had no fingers, no toes, no limbs, not even eyes and ears. What he had instead was something _else_, a sensation so indescribable that he could not even put a single word on the feelings that ran through his ethereal essence.

Rygel expanded his indescribable senses, and recoiled at the amount of stimuli he was bombarded with. A giant tree of light and stars that burned with _light_ and _not-light_ blinded him with their collective radiance. The magnitude was so overwhelming that he felt his consciousness threatening to be subsumed by the infinitely greater mass. He spent an undeterminable time to dig in his heels, only to feel a pit of himself grow more _hungry_ for that _not-light_ that constantly beckoned him for warmth and companionship. _'Is it.. so bad.. to resist?'_

As the desire grew, he stopped his futile resistance, and soon enough he practically opened his arms to meet the constellation with an eagerness that didn't often grace the likes of him. The shifting mass came closer to him, or did he come closer to it? _'Doesn't matter.'_ All that mattered was that the lights came to meet him with as much anticipation as his own. _'It's as if I'm coming home.'_

However, just as he was a little bit more than halfway, his progress halted abruptly. _'What's wrong?!'_

The nexus before him glowed in an irregular pattern. It took some strain, but Rygel eventually sensed what was going on. The outer-most tendrils of lights snuffed out into darkness. It began slowly, and new lights quickly grew in its place. For a time, the amount of lights even expanded, yet that did not last for long, and the disappearances happened in an ever-accelerating pattern. Rygel slowly grew more horrified as he realized those lights were life essences much like his, and that each light that passed away meant another form of life passed away. The murder started in the thousands, but quickly grew into millions, then billions.

The collection, once vast and unimaginable in scale, now reduced quickly until there was but a few precious hundred left. Nevertheless the genocide continued apace, until the final light at its very center exploded into a nova of will that scattered a once-powerful concentration of strength that would have seared out Rygel's eyes if he was watching at it with his physical body. The shockwave tore at his consciousness with an agony that was at least a dozen times worse than the arrow perched in his guts.

Not much was left after that soul-shredding explosion. The web of lights had dimmed into almost total darkness. The sheer scale of its death brought Rygel's soul to sadness. Only a few scores of lights remained, separated so far from each other that their connection to the other remnants almost shattered to their breaking points. Some of them remained stationary and dormant, hiding from the menace that hunted them down. Others travelled vast distances, seeking to escape the predators that devoured them whole. Some of the lights managed to survive. Others were sniffed out and hunted down. One by one they fell, until only twenty-odd lights remained. These ones travelled directly towards Rygel, and as they neared his position he began to see that the lights were lackluster and almost depleted of energy. They were on their last legs.

Yet as they reached Rygel's vicinity, the lights flared up and burned out in flashes of horrendous flames. The survivors felled so fast that Rygel wanted to reach out and take some of them within him, as if he could shield them from the harm of the void. Yet no matter how fast he travelled forward, it was always just a bit too far, and he could do nothing but see the remaining survivors be culled until only three were left. One of the lights soared far to his left, and the other flew beyond him and landed far behind. The remaining light headed straight towards him, and collided with his soul with devastating effect.

_LIGHT. DARK. SWARM. VOID. ZERG. ZERG. __**ZERG**_.

Rygel cried out at the influx of foreign knowledge, and his mind instinctively cut him off. Mercifully he rested and gathered his mind. Once he could extend his senses again, he was almost startled at the two lights standing closely by his side.

'_Wh-What?! Who are you two?'_

Before either of the lights could answer him, a foreign essence pulled at the very core of his soul, and he could feel something parting from him, leaving his form to float before him. Rygel could see with a measure of amazement as the two souls beside him were doing the same. The trio of parting energies then merged within themselves, and with a triumphant cry, the giant light that glowed as bright as a star was birthed once again.

'_The Zerg lives once more!'_ The voice Rygel recognized as his Goddess uttered into their minds. _'The three of you have done well. All of you possess the will to bear the burdens of my Swarm.'_

'_You mean.. I'm not the only one you chose?'_ Rygel blurted.

'_Of course not, my Prince. Meet your fellow agents. They, like you, are an extension of my will. They will advance the Swarm at different corners of your world in different ways.'_

Rygel tried his best to extend his senses to the two essences besides him, but could garner nothing but vague sensations. The only thing he knew for sure was that both of them were females, one of them dainty and airy, the other one earthy and wild. He tried to say something to them, but he received nothing of a hint of a reply.

'_You have much more to go before you can converse with your fellow agents, Rygel. For now, you must worry for yourself. I have split the strains of my Swarms into three separate variants.'_

_A string of energies flew from his Goddess' form and presented themselves in front of her Chosen. Instinctively, Rygel recognized the concepts that painted the energies._

_Domination. Adaptation. Symbiosis. _

'_One shall take the purity of the Zerg and explore our full psionic potential. The other will eschew conformity and elevate the Primal Zerg into innumerable species. As for you, Rygel, you shall combine the might of our Swarm with the ingenuity of the Terrans. Take possession of your new body and establish a Hive Cluster in your region. Swell your forest with the Swarm, encourage symbiosis with the local Terrans and grow into your role as a Prince in your own right!'_

Despite not having a clue what symbiosis meant, Rygel responded without hesitation._ 'I.. I will do as you wish, my Queen.'_

'_Then get to work.'_

* * *

_V – Hunger_

* * *

Rygel woke with a gasp, and it was as if he was born again. His body felt alien to him, despite looking exactly the same as his mortal flesh. The arrow was gone, having disappeared to Goddess knew where. Night had fallen, and despite the fact that none of Ashantu's moons were up, he could see enough of the dark to sense he was alone amidst his fallen comrades. _'Is this one of the many changes my Goddess has bestowed me?'_

His shaking hands instinctively went for his stomach, and besides the bloody hole in his armor, nothing else was amiss. The Goddess had come true. She healed him and gave him another life. That put Kerrigan far beyond the likes of Zorandar and Cilistine, whose gifts fell to the people of Ashantu so rarely. With renewed energy he lifted himself to his feet, and wondered what he had to do next. _'Sir Deacon is dead, and so is the rest. I'm.. the only survivor of the militia. I have to get back to Steepwood and warn the others.'_

Yet even as he thought of it, a part of him felt disdainful of this course of action. Why should he, a _Prince_ of the Zerg, return to his mudhole of a village and pretend he was just another villager. And who knew what kind of scrutiny would fall upon him if he returned alone while all of his comrades lay in this field with their lives long past? _'Damn the Gods, what am I thinking? Steepwood is still my home. The Zerg.. won't mind if I keep my old life. Besides, I'm not so sure what Kerrigan wants me to do right now..'_

As if to answer his question, his eyes were assaulted by visions of strange beings, different collections of flesh that appeared as ugly as the Ravagers that prowled the wilderness. That reminded him that he was dangerously exposed to the wildlife that ruled with total supremacy at night. _'I've got to get out of here quickly, but.. I feel as if I still have something to do here..'_

The young man wanted to turn away, to head back in the direction of his village, but his instincts _screamed_ that he could not leave this place of promise. The _resources_ that lay idle here was substantial. Rygel let his instincts more leverage, and he could immediately feel his knees bend to the blood-soaked soil. His back lowered until his mouth almost neared the body of Gerald, his fallen friend. Almost unconsciously, Rygel licked his lips, and opened his maw to reveal not only a set of normal human teeth, but two additional appendages that reached out of his mouth, secreting some transparent fluid that dripped on Gerald's face. Whenever the droplets touched the unmoving corpse, they sizzled the skin underneath and began to liquefy the flesh.

That gruesome sight pulled Rygel back from his haunches. _'I'm not going to eat my best friend!'_

'_But you must.'_ Kerrigan's soothing voice brushed his mind. _'The Swarm is never alone. The Zerg must always consume. You need the easily digestible biomass littered in this field. You need to gather a substantial amount of resources to construct your first Hatchery, and you will also need to generate bioenergy to strengthen your body and fuel your new abilities.'_

'_I can't.. this.. this is inhuman.'_

A whip-like crack coiled against his brains. _'You have ceased to be human the moment you accepted my offer! Rygel of Steepwood, did you not promise me your soul? As your Goddess, I command you to consume! Leave no body untouched!'_

The omnipotent presence left Rygel's mind, allowing him a precious moment to catch his breath in piece. The repercussions of his deal with Kerrigan seemed all too clear at this very moment. Kerrigan was the Goddess of Hunger. She longed to eat the world. A terrible chill ran through his spine. The few Blessed people Rygel encountered in his life sometimes lamented the cost that they had to pay for their price, and now Rygel was face to face with that same equation himself. His patron demanded that he eat the flesh of his own friends and acquaintances, and he had a feeling she wouldn't take no for an answer.

So he sought to delay the matter as long as possible. Rygel sat back down on his rear and crossed his arms, willing to wait the matter out. He resolutely turned his head away from the corpse of his friend and gazed at the star-filled veranda of the night instead. Looking at them reminded him of the time he first met his Goddess. The twinkling stars seemed to harbor souls of themselves, and Rygel yearned to reach out and touch their essences with his own. This desire grew from a minor fancy to a consuming obsession in the span of a glass. _'More stars.. more lights.. I must.. grow..'_

The yearning within his heart inexplicably ignited a hunger in his stomach. Something primal gripped his mind, communicating alien thoughts and suggestions. Eating was good. Flesh was good. Easily digestible. High energy density. Just a few bites.

'_No!'_ Rygel slammed his palms against the sides of his head and shook it vigorously._ 'I can't give in to temptation!'_

Despite his efforts, the hunger only grew. Soon enough the stench exposed and rotting flesh turned from something repugnant to a fragrant perfume. The foreboding whiff of coppery blood promised a taste comparable to the nectar of the Gods. It took all his humanity to resist the urges of his stomach. While he initially held out, he could feel that his humanity was just the tip of the iceberg of his greater identity. The more he resisted, the more he unearthed this new, Goddess-touched aspect of his soul. It had no words. Only desires. And the desire to eat, to satisfy his hunger, slowly dominated all of his priorities.

'_Forgive me, Gerald. I can't resist.. I'm just.. too.. hungry.'_

With tears in his eyes, Rygel resigned himself to his new fate, and let his body follow its own new instincts. Like an animal he pounced on the body of his friend, maw gaping open in anticipation of a bloody feast. _'Forgive me, my friend. At least take comfort that I will use this chance to take revenge on those who put an arrow in your body.'_

With those solemn thoughts, Rygel finally let go of the remnant of his control, and _consumed._

* * *

**End Notes**: There is one thing about these kind of 'Zerg Swarm transplanted' fics that I hope to avoid. That, my friend, is the inexhaustible infodumps that plague certain fics and bog them down with endless tedium. One of those fics is especially riddled with this (so much that my eyes almost dried after reading the latest chapter). I'm not going to go overboard with designing my own Zerg species and I'm going to be especially careful with presenting readers with details about new units and avoid hard numbers whenever possible. Of course, there will always be readers who want more detail, but with regard to fiction, having too little detail is a minor nuisance, while having too much detail is a disaster. It's kind of what they say about George Lucas' Star Wars: special effects aren't special anymore if you see them so much.


	2. VI-X: Digesting to Warrior

May 25, 2013  
Not Proofread  
Written By RahXephon [847246]

**Author's Notes**: No comment.

* * *

_**The Zerg Triumvirate**_

_VI – Digesting_

* * *

Rygel of Steepwood had learned one important lesson about the influence he allowed to settle inside his body. The Zerg did not take any consideration for the sanctity of the dead. The right and proper way to treat the corpses of good, honest men was to take them back to a place of civilization and cremate their shells so that the Ravagers of the wild could never bite and tear at them. All men were born of the flesh of the Goddess Lamarantia, and it was only proper to return the purified remains back into the soil.

Instead, his mistress the Goddess of Hunger commanded him to deny his fellow villagers the right to return to the bosom of the Earth Goddess. Through his own alien body, she urged him to satisfy his new craving and take their flesh for himself. As he would come to learn many times over, the Zerg did not see people. They saw biomass. And the more biological matter they consumed, the better, for the Swarm was always hungry.

In his detached vision of watching himself gorge, he noted several curious things. First was that he was able to imbibe in many bodies without visibly growing his form. Though he did eventually grow heavy enough to make indentations on the grassy surface below his feet, he should have sunk right in by the time he got to the last corpse. _'Conversion to bioenergy.'_ A small part of himself muttered, and he took it as granted, not knowing much about the strength surge of strength that accompanied him each time he successfully finished off a meal.

A second and more important occurrence happened when he came upon the body of the fallen knight. Sir Deacon's flesh tasted different. It was not a matter of flavor, but more about.. nutrition, for a lack of better words. Rygel craved bodies like Deacon's more than the bodies of his fellow commoners. There was a strange exotic twang to his essence that introducing something _new_ inside his own body. _'The Blessed have power, power which I am stealing.'_

He couldn't decide whether to be glad about that fact or not. To steal from the Gods was sacrilege in one of the worst forms. Yet did he not already curse Zorandar's name for failing him in his greatest need? _'I serve the Goddess of Hunger now. The others don't matter anymore.'_

In any case, Rygel wasn't even sure yet if his new body could utilize the gifts bestowed on Sir Deacon. He could still feel his body _digesting_ the new matter it received, and it would likely be some time before his limbs incorporated the new design.

At the end, despite the prodigious amount of biomass he consumed, Rygel only felt half-full. He had a strange notion that he needed to eat even more, so that he could plant a strange and putrefying structure that laid eggs. _'A Hatchery. The beginning of my Hive Cluster.'_ This was what his Goddess commanded him to do, and as disgusting at it seemed, he had no choice but to follow her will.

'_But not now. First I have to go back.'_ He had already made up a story to explain to the elders of Steepwood of what had happened. It was not too uncommon for large bands of people to fall prey to a pack of roaming Ravagers. That would neatly explain why there were no bodies left. With that decision made, he set off to his village, but not before exchanging his iron sword with Sir Deacon's steel-forged longsword. He was tempted to take the fallen knight's entire armor, but that would bring too many questions he wasn't eager to answer.

As dawn began to break in the morning sky, he should have known what happened next. A threatening series of barks sounded further off in the forest as shapes coiled and moved behind the foliage. _'Wolves. The smell attracted them here.'_ He thought, feeling sweat trickle down his brow as four black-furred creatures emerged to surround him. _'At least they aren't Ravagers.'_ Yet that did not give him much comfort, as ordinarily even a small pack like this one could tear him apart.

Strangely, however, he did not feel as threatened as he should have been. The knowledge that his body was beyond mortal limits gave him courage to face the alpha and stare right back at the creature's terrible eyes. The wolf growled aggressively at this, pawing forward in an attempt to intimidate him into submission. Somehow familiar with this ritual, Rygel instead stepped forward to meet the wolf's challenge, silently unsheathing his new steel longsword.

"Kerrigan, give me strength."

That set the predators off. Perfect to a fault, the wolves leapt at him and tore into his limbs with their muzzles before he could even take a single swing of his sword. Yet not all wolves found purchase in his flesh, which proved to be much more resilient than before. His new Zerg instincts made him thrash and rip away the wolves, and he only feebly took enough control to use his longsword to pierce the neck of the nearest wolf.

The strangled yelp of that beast did not deter the rest of the pack, so Rygel continued to stab and slash at whichever wolf he could reach. They tore and ripped at him with frantic intent, yet all their efforts came to nothing as his dense skin and flesh failed to yield to their teeth. With savage enthusiasm he stabbed his longsword into the alpha's belly, meeting it with his own eyes and seeing the life fade from its body.

Ripping out his sword, he looked up towards the rising sun and let out a savage unearthly cry.

Only then did Rygel calm down and realize what he had done. The wolves that assaulted him would have ripped any commoner into pieces. Yet not only had he survived, he decisively put them out of their misery. This newfound strength was invigorating, and he felt he could take on the entire world.

Then his hunger returned, and he knew better. This power came at a price. He let his instincts handle his body, trusting them to do the appropriate thing. Unlike his issues before, he felt little disgust about eating beasts. Even chewing them raw did not bother him anymore.

After he finished his hearty breakfast, Rygel resumed his march home, but not before he took a quick wash at the nearby stream to rid himself of his smells. Despite the victorious outcome against the wolves, he wasn't eager to tussle with anymore predators, let alone a Ravager or two. Those powerful creatures had teeth strong enough to chew through steel and the strength to cleave a man in two with their claws. Zerg or not, Rygel felt wholly unprepared to face a menace only those Blessed by Zorander or Cilistine were able to match.

'_The only thing I have to do is to get home in one piece.'_

* * *

_VII – Return_

* * *

The watchmen manning the wooden walls of Steepwood cried out in alarm at Rygel's approach. Quickly enough they recognized his tattered leather armor as one of their own, which replaced their alarm with worry. The survivor neared the gate and announced himself.

"I'm Rygel of Steepwood, militiaman under the command of Sir Deacon! Please let me in!"

One of the watchmen recognized him and hurried to wheel open the gate. After finally stepping inside the village proper, Rygel let out a sigh of relief. _'I'm home again.'_

His reprieve did not last very long, as one of the watchmen summoned the head of the village. The elder of the village shuffled forward from ancient wounds and beheld his gaze upon Rygel's suddenly nervous form. "Hmm.. you look like you've been chewed out by a Ravager. Tell me, boy, what happened to Sir Deacon?"

Rygel's silence said enough, and the elder's face fell.

"How many survivors?"

"N-None.. I'm the only one who made it out."

The shock was palpable on his face. "Oh dear. May Lamarantia give them piece. You must give me a full report, but first let's see to your wounds."

"You don't need to bother, sir. I'm uninjured."

That was another surprise. The elder scrutinized Rygel's body and saw that despite the many rips and tears that his flesh was virtually untouched. "I see. Why don't you go head into my house? I'll summon our chief hunter and we'll go through your story together."

The elder's house was a palace of comfort compared to the cot he occupied at the back of his master's workshop. The gentle warmth and smells made him lower his guard, letting him relax the first time since his rebirth. The elder's wife graciously allowed him to bathe and clean himself up with their heated tub and provided him a spare change of clothes to boot. When he finally entered the living room, he took a seat at the dining table, nervously meeting the elder and chief hunter seated opposite of him. _'Now my next challenge begins.'_

"Rygel, is it not? Why don't you start at the beginning. Please report on everything you've experienced since you left the village gate."

There wasn't much to tell, so Rygel was quick and succinct in his recounting. Nothing really happened during the march, and he didn't say much during the ill-fated ambush. The loss of the entire troop was unwelcome news, and a blow to the villages in this region. While death was not uncommon in these lands, the loss of so many second and third sons at once was a hole in their ranks that could not easily be refilled for some time. Only the fact that families typically had at least half-a-dozen other offspring would temper the loss.

The mention of a bow master did cause some level of concern, as did the sighting of Blackgrove tabards. The mere fact that a Blackgrove bow master had penetrated the borders so deeply was a serious provocation.

"You are certain you saw their emblem and not some smudge or hallucination?"

"I can recognize them anywhere, sir. I know what I saw. The tabard showed a field of black as pure as the night, surrounding a forest of white in the center."

The two adults exchanged a significant look before the elder turned on him again. "And how did you manage to survive where others, even Sir Deacon, did not?"

This was the moment where Rygel had to fudge the truth. "I.. I don't really know what happened. I'm sure I was struck by an arrow." He turned and retrieved the torso part of his ruined armor and fingered the hole in the middle. "Here, this is where the arrow went inside."

The chief hunter looked intrigued and grabbed the armor in order to inspect it himself. "This is his armor, alright. It fits him perfectly, so he didn't steal it from someone else. And this puncture.. yes.. the typical mark of a broadhead arrow. You should have been dead."

The suspicion in their eyes grew again, and Rygel had to talk quick to allay them. "Zorandar somehow Blessed me. He healed me, and made me stronger."

The claim sounded dubious to their ears, but the young man went on. "When the ambushers finished looting us and the animals came to feast on the bodies, I was able to fend off a couple of wolves with a sword."

The vicious bite marks on his armor strengthened his claim, but the fact that he received a Blessing of Zorandar so late was still too unfamiliar for them to wrap around. Usually, Blessings made themselves apparent in the early teens, and the elders always rigorously tested the youth for signs.

"It is not unheard of to see someone come in late with their Blessing. Times of battle often bring out the hottest anger."

The elder bore his gaze into Rygel's eyes as he retrieved his personal dagger. Rygel for his part put on a brave face and held out an exposed arm. When the dagger slashed along the palm of his hand with not a single trace, the suspicion disappeared, and wonder appeared on the faces of the adults. Only when the elder firmly stabbed the palm did he finally break the skin. Just as soon as he pulled back, the wound healed in seconds.

"Amazing.. healing and toughness.. that is a rare combination. Tell me Rygel, do you have more gifts?"

"Nothing that I know of, sir. I don't think I'm stronger or faster than anyone else."

The elder released a deep breath. "We have seen enough. You are most certainly Blessed by Zorandar, late as it came to your life. Your place in this village is no more. You must go to the local fortress town and be trained as a Warrior."

"What?" Rygel blurted, though he should have known. All of the Blessed had to serve in the armies of the Kingdoms. They were too valuable to do anything else, and the fact that they usually received lots of wealth and privileges helped much to ensure their enthusiasm. Still the fact that he might turn out to be one of them brought a good deal of marked surprise in him, though his dreams of becoming a blacksmith was permanently over.

"The next armed caravan that leaves for Fort Resil departs in two days, so take the time to pack your belongings and settle your affairs. You shall accompany them to the fort and report to the commander in charge when you arrive. I will prepare a sealed report for you to deliver to him as well. Is that understood, Rygel?"

"Yes.. sir.."

"Good. You may go now. I have more things to discuss."

Rygel left his torn armor behind and emerged outside in a daze. If his life hadn't changed enough, now it just changed again. _'A Warrior of Zorandar! Me!'_

He shook his head at that. _'No, I'm a Warrior, but not of Zorandar. I serve only Kerrigan now.'_

That reminded him of his less-than-pleasant duties. The need had been sated for the moment, but it never disappeared. The hunger never left his stomach, and even as he raided his stock of dried meat back at the workshop, he still felt the urge to consume. _'I'll always be hungry now.'_

* * *

_VIII – Departure_

* * *

The news spread to the entire village and beyond, and Rygel felt absolutely miserable meeting the tearful faces of mothers and fathers who would never meet their children again. His guilt only grew worse when he had to lie to them that he left the bodies to be eaten by Ravagers, when in truth all that flesh was inside of him, digested into mass and a well of strange energy that he wasn't sure how to use.

In any event, he did as he was told and packed in his spare clothes, his personal tools, and his meager savings. He had no one else to say goodbye to instead of his former master, who only shook his head at him in disappointment. The man had wasted seven years of instruction in the art of smithing, only for Rygel to never use his talents as his occupation as a Warrior demanded more attention. At least he gave Rygel a goodbye gift in the form of another set of leather armor, though the village elder probably paid him to provide it. Still, the extra protection was welcome, as Rygel didn't want to rely on his tough skin too much.

"You'll probably get a better set of armor once you go into training, so feel free to sell this set for extra coin. You'll need it in a big town like Resil."

"Thanks, master. I'll be sure to put it to good use."

"See to it that you do." His old master said, and added a few additional words. "Just be careful, alright? There are dangers about in the bigger settlements, and I'm not talking about the Ravagers. Don't be so quick to trust other people, especially the Blessed."

With that warning, his master went back to work, allowing Rygel the rest of the days to himself. The only excitement he experienced during that time came in his dreams. The darkness enveloped his vision once more, but he saw nothing else but the light of his own soul. He was alone, utterly isolated with no other presence to keep him company. Compared to the majesty of the Swarm at its height, it was a vision of despair. _'The Swarm is too beautiful to be left in this state. I.. I have to do my Goddess proud, and rebuild her army to its former glory.'_

During that time alone, he wondered about the other two people chosen by Kerrigan. Who were they, and why couldn't he go and talk to them? Instinctively, a part of him said that he was too weak, that he lacked something called 'psionic ability'. He needed to grow stronger in order to establish a stronger connection to the Swarm. Yet.. in order to grow stronger, he had to give in to hunger, and consume more flesh in addition to 'minerals' and 'gas'. A constant nagging voice told him to gather the resources to build a Hatchery, but he immediately knew he needed to consume a lot more resources before he could construct something so large. _'I don't have the coin to buy so much precious meat, and I don't even know where to begin searching for minerals.'_

With nothing else to do, Rygel did his best to stay still and meditate. His deepest wish was to gain an audience with the Goddess of Hunger, to ask her of all the changes she had wrought on his body. Yet the lady found him too unworthy to bestow her attention upon, and he wasted his time with nothing else to show for it. By the time the second night had passed, he had resigned himself to stumbling along his new mission in the dark.

When morning arrived, the caravan master greeted him with a grim smile. "Name's Rigson of Brightfall. I heard about what happened. May the Gods guard the souls of the fallen."

A Citizen! "Thank you for bringing me along."

"No need to thank me. An extra Warrior by our side is always welcome, even an untrained one such as you. In any case, your job is to stay in reserve and stick to the lead caravan. Hopefully we don't need to use your talents, but with all the Ravagers on the road I'm not too sure."

After loading up the final trade goods, the caravans left the village of Steepwood to the fortress town of Resil. This was the first time Rygel actually left the village. Ordinarily, he had to pay a good amount of coin to secure passage with all the dangers on the road, but now Rigson promised to pay him a couple of golds just to stand guard!

The trip on the main road was quiet, and Rygel quickly found himself with nothing to do except to chat with the guards. Rigson also took the time to teach him a bit of city life, and his own experience as a former Warrior in of the great city of Brightfall.

"Haha, I'm nothing special compared to the elite of the city." Rigson responded after Rygel found out. "Warriors come in many grades, and I'm on the second-lowest rung. A ninth-grade Warrior like me isn't really fit for Brightfall. You can imagine my father being disappointed in me. That's why as soon as I got the offer to retire from the army, I joined the caravaneers."

"Do you miss your old life? Back in the big city?"

"Oh, Gods no. That place is a cesspool of expectations. The higher grades look down upon those weaker than them, and there's a lot of powerful Warriors and Mages there. Life on the road suits me better. I get to see a lot of places, make myself useful, and have my talents appreciated by the villages which we help them keep in touch with the rest of the world."

The retired Warrior gave him a few more pieces of advice, all of which were jaded in tone. His warnings painted a much different picture than the paradise that Rygel beheld the city of Brightfall. How could such a place where people never had to fear for a Ravager attack have it so bad? _'They're spoiled, that's what they are. When I get there, I'll be sure to.. to..'_

Actually, what did he want to do? For most of his life, he always dreamed to become a successful blacksmith. Now, though, with his life upended, he received a second chance with strength beyond imaginable, but he had obligations as well. He still needed to build a Hatchery. _'But I'm not going to let my service to Kerrigan consume me whole. I deserve to live my own life in the way that I want. I'll become a warrior, and serve under His Majesty to the best of my ability.'_

No lightning bolt struck him down. No fissure in the Earth appeared to swallow him whole. Rygel took that as a sign that the Goddess of Hunger wasn't displeased at his intentions. With that worry gone, he struck camp along with the rest as Rigson called for a halt.

* * *

_IX – Fort Resil_

* * *

Fort Resil stood proudly against the clear blue sky as Rigson's caravan finally appeared at the outer town gates. To Rygel's relief, nothing exciting happened during the week-long journey. A few lesser Ravagers shadowed the convoy for a time, but with a few spear throws and arrows, they were discouraged from doing anything threatening.

As soon as the convoy passed through the stone gate, Rigson handed Rygel a small sack of silver coin. "Here's for your trouble. This is where we separate. The fort is over there, not that you need me to point it out. Just go to the gate and say you're bringing word from Steepwood's elder to the fort commander. Show them that letter if they're skeptical."

"Thank you, Rigson, for everything."

Pocketing the coins in his knapsack, Rygel strode forward and look around the bustling town. Thousands of people must be living here! There were so many houses and other structures that he'd bet it could fit ten villages like Steepwood within the walls. The main thoroughfare he was walking on had shops on either side, all of them well-attended at this busy hour. Straight ahead he could see the road led to the fort which rested on a low hill. With heavy steps he climbed the gentle slope up, and finally came in front of the fortress' dauntingly high gate. The huge wooden double doors were swung wide open, revealing an interior courtyard full of drilling soldiers and busy craftsmen. Before he could make a single step inside, a pair of spearmen crossed their weapons in front of him, denying him passage.

"Halt. State your business."

"Oh, I uhmm.. I come as an envoy from Steepwood village. Something bad has happened there and I need to speak with the fort commander immediately."

One of the guardsmen frowned behind his metal helmet. "No villagers are allowed direct contact with Knight Commander Borius. If you have something to report, take it to a lieutenant."

Frustrated, Rygel carefully took out the letter and showed the seal to the guards. "Look, this seal is high priority. I _need_ to see the Knight Commander."

"Unless your entire village is burned to the ground, take it to a lieutenant, villager."

How dare this grunt dismiss him like this! Rygel was about to reveal that he was a Warrior, only to be interrupted by an armored knight stepping over from a nearby training yard.

"I'll take care of this, boys." His rough and gravelly voice said before turning to the newcomer. "A Steepwooder, huh? If I recall, that's the closest village to the latest starfall. Come inside, and you can report to me."

As a blacksmith, Rygel had forged plenty of pieces of armor, mostly plain iron while his master worked on steel whenever an order came through. Having seen plenty of different works by different masters, he had a good eye on materials and quality. So when he took a good look at the knight's shining reflective suit, he almost wanted to run his hands over it. _'That's not iron or steel. I.. I don't know what it is, but it's on a whole different level from anything a village blacksmith like me could forge.'_

"Are you.. the Knight Commander, sir?"

"Indeed I am." The knight held out his hand. "Commander Borius."

Shaking the gauntlet, Rygel was marginally surprised when Borius gave him a modest squeeze, then turned up the pressure until it was enough to bend a piece of iron. The knight looked more intrigued at him then while Rygel half-wondered whether the commander wanted to crush all of the bones of his hand.

"So you're a Warrior, sir..?"

"My name is Rygel, and I'm not a sir.. yet. I only found out I was a Warrior little more than a week ago. It's.. a long story."

"I'm interested to hear it. Let's head to my office." Growing more intrigued by the minute, Borius gestured the young man to follow him across the courtyard and into the inner fort. Most of the soldiers drilling here were commoners, but well equipped. In the short time he was here, Rygel could spot only three or four Warriors by the quality of their gear. He could spot nothing else that marked them as different from the norm.

The two climbed the steep and sharp steps inside and then turned to ascend another staircase before entering a cold and Spartan office.

"Sit down, son."

Rygel did, sitting down on a sturdy wooden chair that was obviously built to accommodate heavily armored individuals. As soon as Commander Borius took a seat, he broke the seal and opened the village elder's letter. The package was several pages long and it took a good few minutes for Borius to go through it all. All the while, Rygel squirmed in front of the veteran knight, not feeling entirely at ease to be sitting in the presence of a Blessed of Zorandar. _'If Borius knew how many times I cursed at Zorandar, he'd impale me with his sword.'_

Luckily, the power of clairvoyance was not one of Zorandar's talents, so Borius calmly put the letter down and gave Rygel a sympathetic smile. "Ah, I understand now. You are the sole survivor of a Blackgrove ambush. I know it must be hard to walk away from all that when so many of your fellow comrades died. If you need anything, feel free to ask."

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm fine.. sir. I just.. want to know what will happen to Steepwood.. and me."

The commander pressed his gauntleted fingers together. "The situation of Steepwood is disconcerting, but rest assured that I will take action. Guards will be stationed there until the village can replace the lost militiamen. As for the intrusions into our border, we can do nothing but set up additional patrols. That is up to me to decide. What I want to discuss now is your strange circumstance. I don't think I've ever seen a man receive his Blessing in your years. You are.. how old?"

"Twenty, sir."

"The oldest I've seen is sixteen, and that was just a case of undiscovered talent. Are you sure you've been tested by your village?"

"From ten to fourteen years, sir, just like the rest of my village. I can't explain it myself why it would show now. I was just a blacksmith's apprentice before then."

"Hm, I'm no priest of Zorandar, so I will leave the matter be." Borius removed his gauntlets and rifled through his desk, grabbing a couple of sheets of paper. With a quill and inkwell, he took his time to draft a series of letters. "I'll inform the temple of your Blessing. I'm sure they will send a priest to investigate. What powers have you observed so far?"

The mention of meeting a priest of Zorandar made him worry a little, but he resolved to show as little as possible of his concerns. "My skin is tough enough to withstand wolf bites, and my wounds heal quickly, up to a point that I healed from a gut wound."

"Mm.. Yes, the elder mentioned that in the letter. I'll take his word for it." Borius remarked as he patiently dabbed his quill in the inkwell before resuming his writing. "Still, Zorandar usually bestows either one or the other gifts, but almost never both in such strength. Either you are the second coming of the Eternal Emperor who united the entire continent under a single civilization, or you are a victim to the whims of the Gods."

Laughing nervously, Rygel tried to defuse the suggestion. The mere fact that he was compared with the legendary hero who conquered half of Ashantu made him ill at ease. "I'm not that special, sir."

"As you say. In any case, you are quite a piece of work. You're too old to be enrolled in the regular Warrior program, and your unusual set of gifts won't fit in too well. We shall have to test your body thoroughly to make sure we have mapped out everything you can do, but I already have something in mind for you, Rygel."

From the gleam in Borius' eyes, Rygel wasn't sure he wanted to know.

* * *

_X – Warrior_

* * *

Sir Borius conducted the testing himself at a private training hall elsewhere in the castle. The master Warrior painfully exposed Rygel's lackluster militia training early on, and it seemed the Goddess of Hunger hadn't seen fit to imbue Rygel with fighting instinct or strength. Then the knight turned up the pressure, breaking through the inexperienced young man's guard to inflict heavy blows with his heavy broadsword. Each impact stung the young man's skin, sometimes drawing blood, before his body healed over the wound.

"You can certainly take the blows." Borius said, impressed at the rapid healing. "That will prove useful once your training is up to par. I see a lot of potential in you, son. Just do as you're told and I'm sure you will move up in the ranks in no time."

After a few more spars and impromptu lessons, a noise at the entrance interrupted them both. A slim knight geared in a full set of dark steel entered the hall and saluted the commander. "Sir, you asked of me?"

It was only then that Rygel realized the knight was female. Zorandar's Blessing didn't often fall upon women, much like Cilistine rarely graced men.

"Sir Calada, how is your leg wound? Have you finished your recovery?"

The female knight lifted up her helmet's faceguard to reveal an expression carved in stone. "My leg has recovered fully three weeks ago, _sir_. I am more than capable of returning to duty."

Smiling good-naturedly, Borius nodded in satisfaction and gestured to Rygel. "Excellent. Then meet your new charge. Rygel here shall be your new squire. Train your charge well in the Art of War."

Stone cold eyes flicked from Borius to Rygel, and her dourness only increased as she beheld his stance. "A village militiaman. Seriously, sir?"

"He came a little late into Zorandar's fold, but he's the genuine deal." And to prove his point, Borius snapped his broadsword and with blurring speed hacked it straight into Rygel's neck before he could even utter a squeak. The thunderous blow physically knocked him down even with his extra mass, and a spurt of blood escaped the shallow wound before it healed over. "Rygel here has both toughness and healing, though nothing else that I can determine so far."

Whatever Borius had intended, the demonstration succeeded in catching Calada off-guard. "Alright, I'll take him in, but only because I know the other knights won't nearly do as well as I."

"I'll leave you two alone in order to get to know each other better." Borius smiled and made to leave the training hall. "I'll ready the necessary paperwork for you by tonight. Good luck, Sir Calada. And may the Gods look upon you with favor, Squire Rygel."

When Borius finally left, Calada turned to scowl at her new squire before lowering her faceplate. She unsheathed her own sword, a thin but lengthy longsword, though she removed the kiteshield strapped to her back and placed it out of the way. When she finished her preparations, she faced Rygel in an offensive stance.

Dread welled in Rygel's stomach. "Uhm, ma'm, if I may ask, what is it I'm supposed to do?"

"I need to know how you fight before I can remake you into a proper Warrior. Now put that pretty piece of steel in place and _fight_."

As soon as Rygel lifted up his guard, Calada bellowed a fearsome warcry and charged. The knight revealed much her power by hammered right into the inexperienced man with a ferocity that far surpassed what Borius previously showed. Calada tested her new squire with fury, many times inflicting blows that would have otherwise chopped off his limbs. What was even worse was that Rygel somehow felt that Calada was holding back! _'Is this the power of a Warrior? I hope Kerrigan can match Zorandar's gifts, because if I stay as strong as now, I'll be no match against a proper knight.'_

Thinking of his Goddess made his thoughts stray to the buried feeling that he needed to establish a Hatchery. Evidently, his hidden self didn't like being ignored for so long, and the need quickly took over everything in his mind, until the compulsion was all he had left. That distraction almost proved him fatal, as Calada ruthlessly flicked his sword from his hand before lunging forward to pierce Rygel's chest. The longsword surprisingly went much further than before, and Calada quickly retracted her sword before she could do more damage. It was enough, though, as the shock of the pain practically knocked the squire out.

Though Calada quickly determined that nothing serious was wrong with Rygel, she still shook her head at the pathetic sight. "Weak."

* * *

**End Notes**: No comment.


	3. XI-XV: Disappointment to Purpose

May 26, 2013  
Not Proofread  
Written By RahXephon [847246]

**Author's Notes**: No comment.

* * *

_**The Zerg Triumvirate**_

_XI – Disappointment_

* * *

Rygel spent the rest of the day uneventfully as Sir Calada of Resil taught him the basic protocol of being her latest squire. Dinnertime was a welcome relief for more than one reason, as Calada provided him with a humungous portion.

"Eat up, squire. I know from other knights that healing talents like yours always drain a lot of energy. You're going to eat enough for five stomachs if you want to make it through my training."

That made him think whether he had expended any energy during his spars. Was there a limit to his ability to heal? Would his healing expend all of the biomass he had gathered before? As much as he'd like to wish it weren't so, he knew instinctively that he couldn't prolong his healing forever.

Calada mercifully gave him the rest of the evening off, and he decided to turn in early as the spars had taken out a lot of him. The castle steward showed him to a room that was now his permanent abode – a rather expensively furnished chamber that seemed small but was more than enough for his needs. The Blessed evidently always lived in a form luxury when not out in the field. The softness of his mattress surprised him so much that he fell asleep almost instantly.

Only to enter the domain of his Goddess. The same dark expanse returned, but where there was previously darkness, a star as bright as the sun shone right in front of him. _'Ah!'_

The purring voice of Kerrigan spoke. _'You have been a disappointment, Rygel.'_

'_H-How so, my lady?'_

'_Don't you ask me that when you have been so grossly negligent in your duties!'_ She yelled, burning even brighter in front of Rygel's senses. _'You have been playing the little Warrior for more than a week without any further result to the Swarm! Whereas your two colleagues have already established a hatchery each, you continue to dither in your service to me. Are you truly devoted to the Swarm, my dawdling Prince?'_

If Rygel could bend to his knees, he would have. _'A thousand apologies, Kerrigan! It was not my intention to delay you unduly. It's just that it's hard to get access to a large amount of biomass, and I don't have a clue what kind of minerals I need.'_

'_The acquisition of resources is your problem, not mine, you whelp. Gods do not hold people's hands as if they are children. You have five days to gather sufficient materials and begin the construction. If you cannot manage a task as simple as that, perhaps I shall have to choose another champion to carry my burdens. I shall have to extract the Swarm from your body to do so. You will not find the experience.. pleasant.'_

'_I won't disappoint you anymore, Goddess, I swear.'_

Kerrigan's blinding essence finally disappeared from his senses, leaving Rygel blissfully alone in the void. His senses turned muddled, leaving him very feeble during the rest of his vague dreams.

His morning started out miserably. Sir Calada woke him up at the crack of dawn with a rude slam against the door. "You have half a glass of time to wash up and grab a quick breakfast. We'll start sword drills after that, and conditioning in the afternoon."

The knight left Rygel in a bleary state as he fumbled around the underground hallways, looking for a place to wash up. The conversation he had with the Goddess of Hunger left him jumpy during breakfast. While the servants knew enough about him to bring him extra portions, he was tempted to ask for more. _'But that might attract too much attention. These people still think I'm a Blessed of Zorandar.'_

Knowing Calada's likely tendencies, she'd probably keep him up for most of the days, so he quickly lined up his plans. His Goddess compelled him to build a Hatchery in five days. To do that he needed to eat about at least five cows worth of biomass, and he also had to supplement that with minerals. _'C'mon, I'm a blacksmith. I should know a thing or two about minerals. They're the things that come from ore. Metal, salt, crystal, you name it. This fort should have a storeroom somewhere. Maybe I can try and see whether my body responds well if I eat a chunk of metal.'_

Then he looked oddly at his bent metal spoon. A questioning expression came over his face. _'Why not?'_ Most of the early risers had already finished their much shorter breakfast, and walked out to do their morning drills. After making sure no one was directly in sight, Rygel hastily swallowed the spoon whole.

That he didn't immediately turn sick was a good sign. His not-quite-human stomach eagerly received the hard tool, and somehow Rygel could feel the spoon had broken down almost immediately. Still, he had only stilled one of many cravings. _'Metals seem to do the trick, though plain iron is a poor choice. It's not as if I can get anything better anytime soon.'_

Glad to have the answer to at least one of his problems, he started on his next issue. _'I'll need large quantities of food and metal. I doubt Commander Borius will let me in the storehouse, so I'll have to break into it at night or something.'_

The prospect of stealing from a fort occupied by dozens of Warriors looked very daunting to him, but he didn't see any other choice. Despite his newly elevated status, he had very little means and even less wealth after he spent his remaining coin on supplies that Sir Calada forced him to procure. He could either commit a crime or face the wrath of his Goddess. _'And one does not easily defy the Gods.'_

* * *

_XII – Resources_

* * *

The trouble with his current mission was that Sir Calada hounded him for practically every waking moment. For the next couple of days, the stern female knight made it her personal mission to tough him up and sharpen his combat skills so that he wouldn't fall on his sword the next time he engaged in combat. The vicious knight took ruthless advantage of his rapid healing and thick skin, and ordered him to run around and exercise well after most normal commoners fell from exhaustion.

"The great thing about fast healers like you," Calada yelled from the top of a wall tower as she eyed Rygel running around the walls of the fort. "Is that your muscles never grow fatigued! I'm going to make you stretch and break your muscles over and over as often as possible! There's no better way to build up your strength and endurance than that!"

The she-demon certainly gave him a run for his money. For three constant days he knew nothing but to move or to exert himself in some fashion. The other soldiers and Warriors stationed at the garrison laughed at the sight of an old squire like him run himself ragged like a new recruit. The comments and jeers didn't bother him so much, nor did he take note of his alienation with the other squires who were all at least four years younger than him. He only had the Hatchery in mind. While he couldn't do anything about it while Calada kept a vigil eye on him, he nevertheless took the time to inspect his surroundings, noting the baskets of practice swords, the door leading to the back of the local metal shop, the stables where the horses and other cattle were held, and more.

On the fourth day, he finally received his opportunity. Just after Calada finished drilling sword forms into his inexperienced body, a state of alert was called after a messenger came in bearing ill tidings. "Sir Calada, a greater Ravager has been sighted forty leagues to the west. Commander Borius bids you to join his fast reaction force to assess the threat.

Nodding her acknowledgement, the knight turned to Rygel's tired form. "You're too slow and green to accompany me on this mission. Train by yourself until I return."

With those words, the woman finally left Rygel to himself. Within minutes, the horses were brought out and a good amount of Warriors and commoners departed the fort to meet this new threat. The squire couldn't believe his luck. _'There will be less guards around while they try and fight the Ravager. Forty leagues is a fair distance, and they might take their time to deal with the Ravager as well.'_

It took some effort on his part to avoid running towards the nearest storeroom. _'There's too many soldiers walking about. I'll have to wait until night before making my move. There will be less guards than usual now with those men gone.'_

Night came slowly as Rygel counted each passing glass. Well after supper, well after evening exercises, the agent of the Swarm waited patiently for life to die down. While the fort never really slept, the amount of guards that patrolled the walls and hallways were significantly reduced. To his evident luck, the door to the food stores only had a passing patrol that came by once every tenth glass. As soon as the bored guardsman walked by with a torch, Rygel snuck to the door, only to find it locked.

'_By the Gods, why this?'_ Locksmithing was an art neither he nor his master was well versed in. Still, he had installed enough imported locks back in the village to know how finicky they were. There was no way he'd be able to pick this lock. Either he could force it open, or find someone who has the key. _'But where can I find someone with a key?'_

The guard. It made sense he carried a key with him in order to get inside the storeroom. With his decision made, he molded his body against the cool stone corner and waited in the darkness. He had to do this quietly and quickly, without letting the guard see his face. If he failed in any of those conditions, he'd end up in big trouble.

'_Kerrigan give me strength.'_

A tenth glass passed, and the guard predictably sauntered over to this leg of his monotonous journey. Rygel heard his iron boots slap against the stone long before the light of his torch illuminated the hallway. When the guard was just about to turn, Rygel bullrushed him, startling the man into dropping his torch. Rygel kicked the torch away, and clumsily wrestled with the man before being finally able to knock the man out just as Sir Calada showed him in his training session.

With the excitement passed, Rygel easily picked out the keyring hanging from the belt. He took it, then dragged the unconscious man into a crevice where he wouldn't be easily discovered. Needing no light to do his work, he snuffed out the torch before approaching the door. It took longer than he wished to find the correct key, but after that satisfying click, he finally reached his objective. The fortification's food stores were now completely at his mercy.

Most of the stores consisted grains, beans, and a couple of dried vegetables and such. While Rygel knew they would be able to feed his hunger for biomass, what he really needed was meat. He fumbled around, relying on his hazy night vision Kerrigan had gifted him to stumble upon barrels marked with the symbol of a pig. Opening them proved to be a pain, but with spare piece of iron he was able to pry off the lid and smell the salted pork within.

Rygel gorged himself on fifteen barrels before he felt he was nearing his limit. _'I'm not sure.. but I think I've got enough meat for a hatchery. However.. without additional metal, it won't be strong enough to hold itself up.'_

Leaving the storeroom, he locked it behind him and placed the keyring back with the guard. Hopefully his intrusion wouldn't be discovered for days.

* * *

_XIII – Chance_

* * *

Rygel felt he had gambled more than his fair share of luck already, but there was no telling when Sir Calada and the rest of the reaction force would return. If he wanted to gather a sufficient amount of metals, he had to do it now, despite all the risks that entailed. He had already scouted out several sources of suitable materials. The armory had a stockpile of good quality gear, but two considerably more formidable looking guards hovered nearby. On the other hand, the storage shed behind the workshop was only lightly guarded and had stacks of solid metal ingots. The only problem there was that the storage shed was located in the courtyard, allowing any guards patrolling the walls a clear view. One of Ashantu's moons was up as well, denying Rygel complete darkness.

'_The armory is out of the question. I can't take care of both of them at the same time. I'll have to brave the courtyard and hope that no one is nearby when I sneak inside.'_

With his plan set in motion, he left the interior of the fort and stealthily ambled his way along the walls until he reached the side of the shed. No one patrolled this section of the courtyard so he didn't bother trying to steal a key. Instead, he retrieved a hammer and another tool from the shop and began to quietly sabotage the construction. It took a good few moments, and he had to stop and hide whenever a guard passed nearby up the wall. Eventually, he managed to chip through, allowing him to open the door and close it quietly after he entered.

The shed contained a variety of smells that assaulted his nose. Iron, steel, copper and tin were the most common ones, but Rygel also detected a handful of other smells that attracted his nose even more. Stored inside chests were gleaming ingots of materials he wasn't wholly familiar with. Yet from the saliva dripping from his mouth, he had a hunch they were close to what he really needed for the Hatchery. He took one of the ingots and fitted it inside his mouth, which expanded itself automatically to accommodate the large form.

Slowly he started to feed, going at it much slower than normal flesh due to his slower digestion. _'My body isn't meant to gather materials in this way, especially minerals.'_ It was an adaptation forced onto his body, and despite the roiling in his stomach, he still felt a little amazed at what Kerrigan had accomplished. _'There is just no way I'm able to consume all these ingots without growing heavier and larger. Where does it end up?'_

He lacked any solid guesses, so he stopped wasting time on the issue and finished up his last ingot. Carefully he closed the emptied chest and shoved it back into place. With quiet steps he tiptoed his way to the exit, already glad to know that he did not have to worry about gathering more resources. _'All I have to do now is find a hidden location to spawn this new Hatchery. It's going to be difficult getting away from Calada again, but I'll have to—'_

Suddenly, Rygel bumped against a body. A scruffy teenager with hay in his hair gaped at him from the entrance of the shed. "Who are you? What are you—"

With desperate speed, Rygel slapped his hand on the kid's mouth, then used his other arm to drag the boy inside before closing the door. The stranger muffled underneath Rygel's palm as he found himself hauled all the way to the back, where Rygel flung him down and straddled his chest.

"Quiet, boy! I don't want to bring in any more guards!"

When the teenager refused to stay put, Rygel slammed in a fist, dazing his victim. "I said quiet! As long as you don't scream and attract the guards, we may both walk out of here alive, understood?"

"MMhmm!"

After the kid calmed down, Rygel retrieved his hand but kept it against the throat instead. "Now, who are you kid?"

"I'm one of the blacksmith's apprentices. I sleep in the stables nearby. I.. I heard something strange and decided to look."

That was just what Rygel needed. An inquisitive apprentice catching him in the act. "What did you see?"

"I.. I saw you _eat_ the star metal!"

The apprentice saw too much. Far too much. If he wanted to keep his activities secret, Rygel needed to dispose of the kid before he could blabber his mouth to Commander Borius.

Yet.. he couldn't do it. Despite his Zerg instincts screaming to snap his captive's neck and consume the body whole, he found his humanity recoiling at the thought of cold murder. If he started killing innocents left and right, he'd be no better than those Blackgrove ambushers who cruelly killed an entire troop of militiamen. _'There must be a better solution.'_

Kerrigan had gifted him with the essence of the Swarm. Rygel refused to believe that gift limited themselves to toughness, healing, and an endless stomach. There had to be more to the Zerg than that. His mind cast back to the day he met his Goddess. The _thing_ that introduced him to the Zerg, that ugly larval creature entered his mouth and changed him from within. If he could somehow form another such parasite, perhaps he could convert the kid, bring him into the service of his Goddess.

After concentrating for many heartbeats, nothing happened. He could not disgorge anything from his mouth except air. _'I'm missing something..'_

"Damn it all." Rygel cursed, and looked down upon the apprentice with resignation. If all he could do was either kill the boy or let him go, he'd take his chances with the Gods and keep his conscience clean. Reluctantly, he eased the pressure and left the apprentice's body.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Fendel.. of Resil."

"Can you keep a secret?" When Fendel nodded fearfully, Rygel continued. "Then you better keep this quiet, or my Goddess won't be pleased."

"Y-You.. you work for Lamarantia?"

"No. Someone worse than the Earth Goddess. You don't want to know." Shaking his head, Rygel turned to leave, letting Fendel gape at his retreating form. "You keep this quiet, apprentice, and the both of us can go on with our lives. If I ever find out you ratted me out, then you'll find out firsthand how much of your body I can fit inside my mouth."

His last words seemed to do the trick, as Fendel's turned white in fear. "I swear I'll keep your secret, sir!"

* * *

_XIV – Hatchery_

* * *

The very next day, Rygel dreaded even waking up. What if his activities were discovered? What if that Fendel spilled the beans on him? Worry tugged at his heavy stomach as he went through the motions. As he entered the hall for breakfast, Borius made an announcement.

"Men and women of Fort Resil. It is to my great disappointment that I must announce that two separate thefts have happened last night, possibly by the same perpetrator. Both the food stores and the workshop storage shed are missing a couple of tons worth of supplies. Whoever did this likely wasn't alone, and you can't haul out that much material without a wagon. If you have been up that night and noticed any strange sounds or sightings, I bid you to get in touch with my lieutenants and relay your observations. The thieves must not escape justice. That is all."

While Rygel practically sweated under his tunic, he nonetheless felt some relief that he hadn't been found out immediately. He went through his hearty breakfast as normally as he could, then bolted out of the stifling place in order to do his morning exercises. Sir Calada hadn't returned yet, leaving him peacefully alone and free to leave the fort and find a place to settle his Hatchery. As he stretched his body for a morning run, he took careful notice of the people around the courtyard. The blacksmith's workshop was bustling with guards and other officials – likely investigating the theft. He swept his gaze and finally found what he was looking for. He nodded discretely to Fendel, who seemed to be answering questions to one of the guard officers.

The boy predictably avoided even gazing in his direction, but from his terseness in answering the officer's questions, Rygel felt relieved that the apprentice intended to keep the secret for now. That didn't mean the problem was solved, but it did buy him some time to find a more permanent solution.

With that worry gone, Rygel devoted his full attention to the reestablishment of the Swarm. He finished his stretching and jogged his way out of the gates. Fortunately, he had run outside around the fortress' walls often enough for the guards to wave him through. They probably wouldn't find it strange if he decided to make his way in the town.

The real problem was passing through the town gates without arousing suspicion. Leaving the protective embrace of a settlement alone was tantamount to suicide. Even within leagues of the town walls there were still many hidden dangers about. The Ravagers could be lurking everywhere, so people never casually strolled out of the gates unless they were accompanied by a decent escort.

He hadn't managed to figure out a plan by the time he reached the southern gate, so he decided to play it by ear. As he tried to made his way past the open gate, one of the guards held out a spear to block his path. "Halt. It is dangerous to leave the gate alone. Please stay inside the city, sir."

Rygel turned ever so slowly until his eyes faced the guard's own pair. He could already spot the resolve wavering. _'I'm not some village kid anymore. I'm a Warrior, a person blessed by a God. I don't have to answer to any commoner anymore.'_

Putting up a confident face, Rygel arrogantly shoved the shaft aside. "Are you telling me a Warrior like me can't take care of himself a single league beyond the walls? Where I choose to exercise is none of your concerns. Now if you don't mind, I have to make my morning runs."

To the disbelieving eyes of the guards, Rygel jogged onwards and immediately made his way over to the forest that started a good distance away from Resil's walls. As soon as he was out of sight, he dropped his slow pace and picked up his speed in order to make his way deeper into the forest. _'I can't believe that actually worked. Thank you, Kerrigan, for giving me this luck.'_

Wanting to put a good distance from Fort Resil, Rygel kept running forward, heedless of the risk of attracting predators. If worst came to worst, he'd rely on his God-given talents and Sir Deacon's trusty longsword. After running for at least two solid glasses, he hadn't encountered anything but a few deer and other small prey. _'The hunters of Resil must be keeping up regular patrols.'_

He finally found what he was looking for when he encountered a crest of rock and hills. A cave loomed at the side, stinking of death but currently empty and devoid of life. _'A Ravager must have lived here once. The Warriors of Resil must have taken care of it some time ago.'_

That suited his purposes perfectly. He stepped inside the darkness and found the cavern to be rather low, but perhaps large enough to fit his new construction. _'I can't do anything better than this. Now how am I supposed to plant a Hatchery?'_

Rygel paced around in the dark, trying to well up the desire to plant the Hatchery. After several tries, he found a mental trick that caused his body to almost move in its own accord. He started to feel sick, and leaned over to heave the shuddering contents of his stomach. A sea of foul liquid poured out of his mouth and muddied the surface of the cavern before him. His heaving continued, the expulsions growing far beyond the volume of his body many times over. When he started to worry that this might go on forever, the flow mercifully cut itself off, leaving a pool as large as a house bubbling in the dark.

"So this.. is the start of a Hatchery."

It appeared that the Hatchery could build itself. Fleshy tendrils emerged from the pool of biomass, and they slowly coiled in around themselves to form protrusions that grew thicker and firmer. While Rygel wanted to see this fascinating – and revolting – sight to the end, he knew that he was chancing a lot already so he left the Hatchery tend to itself. _'I'll return when I can. Stay safe.'_

A great burden lifted from his shoulders as he left the cave and let the sunlight shine upon his lightened form. The knowledge that he had not failed his Goddess in this task gave him a spring in his steps, and he eagerly made his way back to Resil. Hopefully, no one noticed his extended absence and thought anything suspicious about it. He still had so much more to do in Kerrigan's name.

* * *

_XV – Purpose_

* * *

His return to Resil was equally quiet, though he did hear some strange noises behind the bushes that forced him to run with all of his strength. By the time he reached the gates, he had almost no energy left – the building of the Hatchery had drained most of it, leaving very little left for himself. Yet all of that mattered little as a figure waited for him just inside the gates.

"You _idiot_! Do you have a deathwish or something?!" Sir Calada yelled at him as she grasped his arm to tug him back to the fortress. "You do not just casually stroll outside the town for a morning run. It's a savage life beyond the boundaries that no single human can ever survive for more than a day."

That lesson was punctuated by the sight that greeted him as they entered the fort. The reaction force had returned not too long ago, only this time not all of them made it out unscathed. Many wounded lay in cots, their blood-soaked bandages marking them out clearly to the world. Several groups of healers and assistants came to their aid, saving lives whenever they could. Yet there were also those who ceased to move, whose chests never breathed in and out. These fallen were respectfully left alone.

Sir Calada squeezed the arm she kept in a grip. "That could have been _you_. The Ravagers that stalk our lands are everywhere. Don't think you're any safer this close to the city. Death will come quickly to you despite your stubborn abilities to survive if you keep tempting the Gods."

Suitably chastened, Rygel meekly accepted her dismissal when she indicated she needed to join a debriefing. Just staring at the wounded made him feel seek, and brought him back to the day where the Blackgrovers massacred Sir Deacon's militia party. _'There's too much killing in the world. The wilderness outside our villages and towns aren't safe.'_

Then he thought back on the Hatchery he had spawned, and what it represented. _'The Swarm is not a single person, or creature, or anything. It's.. something larger, more numerous.'_ Despite not having a clear idea what the Zerg Swarm represented, he had an inkling of an idea from his vague dreams and visions that Kerrigan probably graced him with. In it, he saw a tide of flesh, maws of uncountable teeth, and a concept of wholeness that astounded his limited life experience. If he could use his Blessing to bring that Swarm to the world of Ashantu, then perhaps he might bring some much-needed order in a realm of anarchy.

This must be why Kerrigan chose him. It was his duty to tame the untamable, to carve a new world out of the bones of the old. The Swarm was be Ashantu's salvation, and he would bring Kerrigan's holy benevolence to the Kingdom of Brightfall first. A sense of overwhelming purpose enveloped his emotions and he felt that righteousness was on his side. The powers of the God of Rage and the Goddess of Temperance haven't been enough to give humanity dominion over this continent. Only with the Goddess of Hunger could his race break the tenuous stranglehold the Ravagers maintained over their precious settlement and begin to reclaim Lamarantia's virgin bounty.

That night, when he went to bed, he felt something else tugging at his slumbering mind. It took some time for him to realize it was another connection, another _life_. Its light only shone faintly, but steadily gathered strength. _'This much be my Hatchery.'_ The life form was only at its infancy – it would take at least several days to grow into completion. Still, it was enough of a privilege to see this new life grow itself into fruition as a creation of the Swarm.

Rygel wondered what he had to do next. His Goddess hadn't instructed him in the art of managing the Swarm. None of the tomes available in Fort Resil's library ever spoke of Kerrigan either, so he had no clue what to do next. That she wanted him to expand the Swarm was obvious, but he felt a little overwhelmed by his choices, and his lack of knowledge on pretty much anything related to the Zerg left him rudderless in the wind.

'_I will see.. what has to be done when the Hatchery matures. Until then, it might be a good idea to keep my head down and avoid attracting more attention.'_

Hopefully, the Warriors of Resil wouldn't connect his break-ins with his strange and ill-advised jaunt in the wilderness. Sir Calada also seemed to be the type of person not to let him out of her sight again after such a stunt. He would endure the scrutiny, and make his supplications to Kerrigan at what little time he had available alone. Whatever faith he could devote to her, he'd provide it, because out of all of the Gods, she was the most worthy to receive his attentions.

* * *

**End Notes**: No comment.


	4. XVI-XX: Visitor to Occupied

May 28, 2013  
Not Proofread  
Written By RahXephon [847246]

**Author's Notes**: No comment.

* * *

_**The Zerg Triumvirate**_

_XVI – Visitor_

* * *

'_This is the world we live in.'_ Rygel thought somberly as the funeral pyres lit up the twilight sky. Commander Borius had given out a short and – the squire guessed – familiar speech to the garrison of Fort Resil. After a final salute, the crowd dispersed, going back to their normal activities but with a touch of melancholy involved. _'Deaths happen all too frequently here.'_

That was a fact of life. Many children died at childbirth. More perished during the winter months. When frail health didn't do them in, the dangers of the wilds beyond surely would. The scattering of farms the villages and towns maintained were dangerously exposed, but vital to the functioning of society. Yet to secure all that territory with walls was impractical, so both the farmers and the militiamen had to brave many dangers just to get by each year. Not that it was much safer inside the settlement, as once in a while a flying Ravager would swoop in and ignite chaos. Nowhere was truly safe on Ashantu.

Days passed as Sir Calada continued her training. Since Rygel already knew how to maintain his equipment, she skipped over that part and instead worked on perfection his sword form, issuing him a shield from the armory to add to his toughness.

"I can't afford to stay idle here while I'm training you." Calada spoke to him after a round of sparring where she had trounced him once again with her inhuman strength and speed. "Starting next week, you'll join me on my patrols and other assignments. That doesn't mean I'm going to throw you headlong at the Ravagers, but if it comes to blows, I want you to keep on the defensive and survive while others do the killing."

"Yes, ma'am." Rygel answered demurely, not at all at ease in his new role.

"Do you know how to ride a horse, at least?"

"I do, though I have not ridden since my early teens."

"That will have to do then, squire. Now go eat your supper."

Life at Fort Resil was tense, but exciting. If Rygel had been a regular warrior, then he would have taken up his rise in knighthood as an ambition. Yet Kerrigan was his real mistress, one who broke no patience with dalliances. A small part of his sensitive mind could feel the curious signals that his growing Hatchery had been sending to him. It was an odd feeling, akin to being poked by the snout of a mouse. That something so large could have so small a presence was amazing. It made him wonder what Kerrigan's true form looked like with her essence burning so bright. _'Perhaps she is as large as a castle, a monstrous being of flesh and blood.'_

When he entered the dining hall and sat down at his regular table with his plate, he belatedly noticed a new face sitting opposite of him. Her rich garments and lack of anything resembling leather or metal marked her as an outsider, and he couldn't help but be pulled in by her small presence. The girl noticed his stare, and seemingly took offense at him. "Don't you know better than to stare at a mage?"

That shut him up real quickly. _'Of all things, a mage!'_

"Oh, err.. sorry."

While the slim and diminutive girl did not make for an intimidating sight with her cute little nose and sparkling blond hair, the knowledge that she could listen to Cilistine's Silent Song was enough to shut any man, Warrior or not. In Brightfall and elsewhere, the Warriors usually made up the knights and lower nobility. Some exceptional Warriors might be able to achieve a higher station, but that was more the exception than the rule.

Mages on the other hand made up the bulk of the aristocracy, and enjoyed a life of luxury in the well-guarded towns and cities. Even the girl before him – an apprentice, likely – had a title waiting for her as soon as she graduated to a full mage.

He averted his eyes and darted over to the head table, where I could spot Commander Borius speaking amiably with an impeccably dressed woman well out of the prime of her life but still going strong. With but a word she could scorch everyone in this chamber in flames, yet now she just smiled politely at one of Borius' many recounting of his adventures.

"Stop staring at my master, you filth." The girl interrupted him, and Rygel quickly obeyed, not wanting to attract any unpleasant attention from these guests.

"Okay, um, sorry." He stammered, then tried to switch tack. "I'm Rygel, squire of Sir Calada. Pleased to meet you."

"Did I ask for your name?" Her face sneered at him as if she was beholding a pig covered in mud. "I have no interest in socializing with your _ilk_, especially a man who hasn't even earned his knighthood at your age."

While Rygel wanted to bristle at that and snap out a retort, he knew better, the fear of magic keeping him in check. So he settled for clearing out his plate as quickly as possible and leave before he provoked another unpleasant response.

"Evelyn." A voice said directly behind him, and Rygel froze. "Are you quite finished yet, my dear?"

"Yes, mistress." The mage apprentice nodded respectfully and immediately stood up. "Though the fare is so dreadfully bland."

A tired sigh escaped the older mage. "I shall hire a chef or two during our stay here. Now come along, dear."

Well after the two women left, Rygel turned to another squire and asked, "What's up with the mages?"

"Lady Espen is here to bolster our losses and guard against magical intrusion from Blackgrove." The kid answered him with his mouth filled with sausage. "They say the borders are getting more dangerous, so Commander Borius is pulling some strings to get some reinforcements from the great city."

That meant that Blackgrove was stirring up trouble. For once, he didn't mind being sent into battle against those murdering bastards. _'I still have to avenge my comrades and kill that bastard who took my mother's ring.'_

* * *

_XVII – Direction_

* * *

Several days later, Rygel sensed something new burst into his mind during his sleep. It _felt_ like an exulted cry, and the squire concluded it must be the birth of his Hatchery. While his new creation had always scratched the corner of his thoughts, the moment the Hatchery grew into function, it was as if he was sharing its mind. _'Though an alien and incomprehensible one at that.'_

He didn't know what to make of it. What was its purpose? What was he supposed to do with it? Could he do anything about it while he was sleeping several leagues away from the actual location? Without seeing it, he was groping in the dark. _'A Hatchery sounds like a place where eggs are hatched. Is this where the Swarm is spawned? It would make sense. But where do I get the eggs?'_

At that thought, his vision suddenly pulled, and he felt as if he was dragged to a place in the dark. _'The Hatchery, but it's behind me. I can't see it.'_ What he could see was the pool of biomass, softly bubbling and expanding from the base of the Hatchery. Yet more fascinating than that were the wriggling presences of larva. _'The same ones that entered my mouth and brought me Kerrigan's gift!'_

These were her children, spawned from the Hatchery that Rygel had planted himself. Were they to grow into a mighty creature of the Zerg? Yet they only flopped about, and he could see no sense of direction, no conscious thought at all emanating from the infant creatures. No, in order to accomplish anything in their lazy little lives, they were waiting for something _else_. _'But what?'_

His vision swirled to another sight, a memory of something greater, where a reddish-black landscape ruled by Zorandar raged in burning fury. Yet at the midst of this bleak environment, a collection of strange and alien growths seemed to thrive. The centermost growth must be the hive, and.. strange insects hovered back and forth, bringing in a strange blue mineral or a bubble of even stranger green gas. And the larva, there were so many of them, and not all stayed idle. From an unseen order, they buried themselves in the carpet of flesh and formed a transparent egg. Sometime later, they burst into the same black worker creatures, and joined the work line as if they had been doing it all their lives.

The image passed by quickly, and while it was informing, it left Rygel with little clue on what he had to do. Was he.. supposed to direct the Swarm? Encourage the larva to change into a different creature? It made a certain amount of sense. Kerrigan spoke of him being a Prince of the Swarm, and part of that meant he had to rule over fellow Zerg.

'_Kerrigan wants me to grow the Swarm into a formidable force. These worker beings are the first step to accomplish that goal.'_

Though there was a trick to it, he easily managed to order the larva to form into eggs as if he was flexing a limb he didn't know it was there. The feeling of dominance came so easily to him that he was apprehensive in doing anything else in case he might upset a delicate balance.

The hatching lasted several hours, time in which Rygel spent in hazy recollection. When the creatures, _drones_, burst out of their shell, he felt them follow their instinctive desire to gather more resources for the swarm. Drunkenly, they clamored about with their tiny legs, testing the wall of the cave to little avail, growing more frustrated at finding nothing useful to salvage.

'_There's nothing in the cave.'_ He tried to say to the drones. _'Go outside. There are trees and brushes and other wildlife. Gather those if nothing else.'_

Coaxing the drones to follow his lead became more natural, and they silently changed course and exited the cave. As soon as they did, they made a beeline towards the nearest tree, and sprouted acids from their ugly mandibles at its base. The vile stuff chewed quickly through the wood, making Rygel shudder at the thought of it hitting flesh. Nevertheless, the tree was felled, letting the three drones cut the fallen log into smaller pieces with a few more applications of acid.

As soon as one of them cut off a manageable chunk, it grasped the log with its mandibles and lifted it up with surprising strength. Then the drone slowly crawled back into the welcoming comfort of the cave, heading straight to the hatchery until it reached a side where a pool of darkish green liquids boiled. Carefully, the drone dropped the mass of wood and leaves into the pool, letting it descend under its ominous depths.

'_This must be the beginnings of a hive.'_ Rygel thought appreciatively. The workers gathered materials to the Hatchery, allowing it to spawn more workers to gather materials faster. Yet this was just the beginning of the story. He instinctively felt that the Swarm did not just wholly consist of Hatcheries and drones. _'They have other growths, fulfilling a different function. These allow the creation of different creatures.'_

The Swarm were much like beehives that Rygel poked around in his youth, except the drones were not meant to fight on the frontlines. The Zerg had different beasts who performed that role, like the fur-less dogs with claws and teeth. Rygel tried to encourage a spare larva to transform it into one of those dogs, yet somehow it didn't work. Perplexed, he tried many different ways of communicating his intentions, and none of it seemed to matter. Yet as he ordered the worm to change into a drone, it did so without question!

'_Okay, I am clearly missing something here.'_

By now, he had wasted so much time that dawn had started to emerge. He'd have to figure out this problem another time, then. For now, he ordered his infant hive to keep producing drones up to a certain point, and quietly gather resources from the environment without being discovered by either man or beast. Rygel wasn't very sure if the creatures were intelligent enough to understand his intentions, but it had to do for now, since his connection to the Swarm during the day always felt too weak to do anything useful.

So with a tired breath, Rygel woke up and faced another day.

* * *

_XVIII – Blacksmith_

* * *

"Alright squire, it's about time to get you fitted out with plate." Calada announced.

Looking down at his standard-issue squire outfit, which consisted mainly of chainmail, Rygel shrugged. "All that weight will slow me down even further. I doubt plate armor is going to protect me better than my skin."

That brought an even uglier scowl to her face. "Don't sound so overconfident. When you come across a Ravager with teeth, you'll think differently. And consider the weight of a full suit as strength training. If a Warrior can't even fight freely in full plate, then he's not a real Warrior."

He couldn't argue with that, so he let Calada forcefully direct him to the fort's local blacksmith. He had looked at it plenty of times, of course, but this was the first time he had stepped inside while people were working. A handful of apprentices and journeymen were laboring with familiar patterns Rygel had forged at his own back in Steepwood. He inadvertently met his eyes with Fendel, and seeing the boy gaze fearfully away from him reassured the squire that the blacksmith's apprentice had kept his mouth.

A tall and muscled man stepped forward to greet Calada with an easy nod. "What do you need, Cal?"

She jerked her head towards her squire. "Get Rygel here outfitted for Warrior duty."

The master blacksmith eyed Rygel dispassionately, his trained eyes taking in his height and measurements. "I think I've got plenty of pieces in storage that will fit his build." He turned around and caught the attention of the one person Rygel wasn't eager to meet again. "Fendel, go with the lad and measure out the adjustments."

"Aye, master." Fendel said with a touch of resignation, and gestured Rygel to come along.

When they entered a storeroom stacked with a variety of gear, the two kept an awkward silence aside from instructions for Rygel to strip his gear and try out different pieces. As Fendel babbled about needing to work the fittings together, Rygel held up his arm to forestall the explanation.

"I'm a journeyman blacksmith myself. I can do this well enough on my own, though Sir Calada probably won't spare me the time."

"You.. you're a blacksmith? Is that why you.. that night.."

"Sh! Don't speak another word."

Strangely enough, Fendel's eyes sparked with a new form of respect, but Rygel wasn't interested in forming a new relationship. A question already formed in his lips.

"Look, what I did was for a greater purpose, nothing more. One day, everything will be explained."

"If you say so." Fendel said, and went back to work.

The lack of.. alarm from Fendel made the squire think. He had decided early on to keep his ability to control the Swarm a secret. As far as he knew, no one had ever heard of the Goddess of Hunger, so he had absolutely no credibility if he claimed his powers came from an unknown name. In addition, the Swarm was many things, but cute and cuddly wasn't one of them. If he came up to Resil with an army of ugly critters behind his back, they'd denounce them as Ravagers and take them as a threat to be exterminated.

'_Not everyone will welcome the Zerg with open arms.. but perhaps some will be more open than others.'_ Rygel thought, eying Fendel speculatively. _'A blacksmith of Fort Resil has access to things that I don't. Maybe it will be useful to extend a hand of friendship.'_

But not yet. He still didn't fully trust the nervous boy. Maybe after he settled in some more and make a name for himself, he could come back to Fendel in a stronger position.

"Okay, I think that's done, sir. I'll have the adjustments done in two days."

Rygel could have done the work in a single evening, but he didn't comment on that. Instead, he gave the boy a terse smile before exiting the storeroom. But before he could go back to his waiting master, Fendel called out.

"Wait!"

"Yes?" He answer back with irritation.

"Uhm, sorry sir, it's just.. can you show it to me again?" At the squire's penetrating gaze, Fendel elaborated. "That trick, where you ate a piece of metal."

"My powers are not tricks!" Rygel blasted back hotly, before reining himself in. This was an opportunity for him to consume a piece of metal for free. "But I am always in need of more metal. I could show you.. if you have some to spare."

Fendel nodded enthusiastically and went over to a bucket of old swords. "The Warriors always come back with damaged gear that we never get around to repairing. No one will miss a few pieces."

When the blacksmith's apprentice threw Rygel a steel longsword with a broken blade, the Swarm surrogate eyed the weapon critically, noting the flecks of dirt but not much rust. "This will do."

Trying with as little fuss as possible, Rygel swallowed the sword whole, having no difficulty at all even with the extended hand guard. Fendel stared at him with wide eyes. "I've never seen a Blessed of Zorandar do that before."

"That's because…" But Rygel quickly cut himself off. He didn't want to expose his true devotion until he felt he could trust Fendel more. "Maybe some other time. We better get back to our masters."

Both boys left the storeroom with much to ponder about.

* * *

_XIX – Priest_

* * *

"Alright, squire, you've got some training to not get yourself poked immediately and you have a suit of armor to help you with that." Calada said to her charge after he came out of breakfast. "Commander Borius needs only one more thing to clear you for field duty."

"And what is that, ma'am?"

She smiled her usual half-vicious, half-toying expression. "A Priest of Zorandar from the city of Brightfall itself has finally arrived to take stock of you. Borius wants to be sure there is nothing else about you that might become risks later on. So come along, the priest is waiting at Zorandar's altar."

This was one of the things Rygel had been fearing. He followed after the knight, his mind in turmoil.

Priests of Zorandar were without exception former Warriors with a distinguished service. They were masters of their own emotions, and as priests often offered spiritual help to those who needed a helping hand. Even in a village as small as Steepwood had a priest and a chapel, though they were both minor things.

Yet humble as they may appear, they also acted as a vital pillar of defense in times of battle. If Rygel caused any offense to the priest who he was meeting with, he wasn't sure Kerrigan's gifts could prevent him from being squashed like a bug. One did not trifle with a devotee to any God or Goddess.

The altar was tucked in a larger chamber devoted to the Four Primary Gods of Ashantu. Each of the four sides had altars and other objects proclaiming worship to a God.

"Ah, welcome, Warriors. Please, have a seat" The priest was a balding man garbed in rich and silky robes. To Rygel's eyes, that meant the city dweller might be hiding all manner of weapons and torture tools on his person. "I am Edwin of Brightfall, Elder Priest of Zorandar."

"Sir Calada of Resil."

"Uhm, Squire Rygel of Steepwood."

"Curious." Edwin muttered, loud enough for the both of them to hear. He gave Rygel a comforting smile. "I see that the letter bore no lie. You indeed look to be well into your adolescence. And you say that you have not exhibited any Blessings before?"

Rygel nodded. At least he didn't have to lie about that. "The priest of Steepwood was certain of it."

"Hm, curious, curious." The man squeezed his fingers as if he were crunching a fruit. "While I have read the report of your village elder, please indulge an old man and regale the tale of your unfortunate awakening at the border with Blackgrove."

The squire settled in for a comprehensive retelling of his experiences. Edwin followed his story rapturously, and occasionally asked for elaborations on certain matters, especially his friendship with Gerald and the trauma of seeing his death. It brought Rygel to a somber mood, but never did he once let down his guard. While priests were more understanding than most, Rygel wanted to avoid revealing the existence of a God not aligned with the Primary Pantheon. Worshippers of the main Gods felt threatened by the emergence of other Gods, and didn't always treat them well.

"Hm, your retelling reaffirms the explanations of others, and I have little to add to their conclusions. Zorandar is always attracted by rage, though he finds younger souls more receptive of his gifts. Also, lineage matters as well. Do you have any family members who have received Zorandar's Blessing?"

He shook his head. "None of my parents or parents of parents have ever been noticed by the Gods. However.. when my father died, my mother remarried a Warrior nine years ago."

"Ah, that might be a reason for Zorandar's late interest in you, but I doubt it. I shall pursue this line of inquiry regardless." The priest stood up and beckoned Calada and Rygel to leave. "But let us not waste more time on words."

Bewildered, Rygel followed the priest to the training hall. There, the man casually shed his robes, revealing a body taut with muscle but lean and supple in movement. He held out a mace that glowed in soft blue tones, likely enchanted by a master mage.

"What.. am I supposed to do, sir?"

Edwin gave Rygel a reassuring smile. "The Blessed of Zorandar are men of action, not words. Passion fuels our power, and there is nothing more passionate in the world than love, or battle. Since you are likely to be disinclined to do the former, let us cross weapons."

Timidly, Rygel made the first blow, half-expecting the priest to parry his sword and reply with a dangerous counter-attack.

"Do not let your hesitation rule the way you fight. Come on, now. Show me what Zorandar has Gifted you with!"

After a few more exchanges, it was clear to Rygel that Edwin wasn't sparring in Calada's manner. His gruff master always insisted on hitting him as hard as she was safely able to do, which still hurt quite a lot. Edwin on the other hand stood passively, deflecting each and every sword strike with experienced grace. Putting himself fully in the fight, Rygel tried to crack the priest's defenses, only for frustration to mount as he failed to inflict a single scratch.

"Come on now, boy, is this the extent of your battle spirit?"

Something about the priest made him want to test himself to his limit, to _prove_ that he could fight as well as the best of Zorandar's blessed. Yet none of his feints and his attempts at misdirection worked. The man was too experienced to fall for such things from a novice. Therefore, Rygel poured all his energy into the fight, abandoning cheap tricks and clever feints in exchange for brute hacking power. The man's arm strength was enormous for him to be able to parry without giving a single fingertip's length, but if Rygel put all his weight into his swings, he might make the man budge. He swung harder, and harder, until he was nothing more than a frenzied woodchopper.

A dam broke inside of him. He felt his muscles heating up as if scorched by the sun. A strange and foreign influence – something other than his, or from the Swarm – was _changing _the very essence of his flesh, using up a sizable chunk of his energy to charge up his body. He thought of his hatred in living in a backwater village, of how he longed to return to the city, of displaying sufficient heroism to become a landed gentry. _'Wait, that's not what I think!_' Then the visions of the massacre near the Blackgrove border came to mind, and utter rage swam into his head as he rushed headlong at the archers in order to save as much of his men as possible. That same rush of strength went all the way through Rygel's head, causing him to utter a warcry that Sir Deacon always favored, and slammed down his sword.

_Clang!_ And Edwin jerked in surprise as his mace moved a breath.

_Clang!_ And the second blow came right after, with more speed and force than Rygel had ever exhibited before.

_Cla-Crack!_

A broken blade spun in the air, only to embed itself on the floor a short distance away. Rygel stared at his steel longsword with a stumped expression.

Calmly, Edwin lowered his mace, and reattached it to his belt. He had a pleased smile on his face. "Sir Calada, you have a most wondrous squire here. I can say with absolute certainty that the God of Rage lives within him. Some of it dormant, perhaps, but it can be brought out with further training and experience."

"Not once during his training did he ever exhibited that level of strength." Calada said skeptically.

"His late elevation may be the cause of that." Edwin said, waving the issue away. "Older bodies are less flexible for Zorandar to mold. This is nothing new."

To Rygel's relief, the priest had nothing else to say than to profess the fact that he was with absolute certainty a Warrior of Zorandar. Still, he found it strange that Zorandar hadn't gifted Edwin with more awareness. _'I've offended Zorandar enough times to deserve a reckoning.'_ Was Kerrigan shielding him from Zorandar's wrath?

'_If so, I better give her an appropriate sacrifice this evening.'_

* * *

_XX – Occupied_

* * *

With Edwin's blessing, Commander Borius could not hold Calada back from taking up assignments. The firm knight finally had a reason to drop her ever-present scowl as she dragged Rygel along on patrol duty. Kitted out with his new plate armor, another longsword to replace his broken one, a pack for supplies, and a horse to get around, he looked every bit the Warrior Knight that he always admired as a kid.

Technically though, he was still a squire, and Calada pressed that fact in his skull many times as she delighted in turning him into her personal manservant. Rygel, fetch me some water from the river! Rygel, be a dear and setup my tent! The Chosen of the Swarm dutifully obeyed, not wanting to give her any more reason to dislike him. It didn't help that he managed to exhibit an uncommon burst of strength during his spar against the Priest of Zorandar. Calada wanted to draw out that strength again, and provoked him mercilessly during their training until he could manage to batter aside her own strength. That it never happened against incensed her even further, leading to a very stressful patrol just a dozen leagues from Resil.

At least Calada couldn't berate him in his sleep. Rygel clung to this precious moment of rest, using it to find his balance and regain his composure. His connection with the Hive he planted at the cave always seemed to lend him a bit of encouragement. The mental connection he shared with the Hatchery and all the busy worker drones was one akin to father and son. Just watching them go about their business brought a wave of satisfaction.

When he went to sleep after being beaten again and again by his sadistic master, he was ready to open his arms and welcome back the psychic signatures of his babies. Yet when only one presence came to welcome him back, he felt a shudder go through his very essence. _'Something's wrong.'_

He couldn't feel his drones. _'Where are you?! Talk to me!'_

Nothing answered him. Absolutely nothing except for his Hatchery, and it was too stupid to tell him anything more than its health.

'_Wait… what about the larva?'_

The faint connections to them were easily overlooked, so Rygel had to strain his senses to reach out to them. _'There! I found one!'_

Then, it too ended. What was happening?

Having quite enough of this useless worrying, Rygel dove into his connection with the Hatchery and tried to 'see' what was happening.

Cold ran through his intangible form as he spotted a tangle of limbs resting nearby. From its size and splotchy pelt, it could be nothing else than a Ravager, a bark bear. Suddenly, Rygel felt so foolish to choose this cave as a birthing ground for his Swarm. The den had never been abandoned. The bear was just away for a time. Now it came back and killed all of his drones. Twenty-three lives snuffed out by a territorial creature of brute strength. Even at this very moment, it leisurely chewed away at the larva that the Hatchery was constantly growing.

With swift purpose Rygel immediately commanded the Hatchery to cease producing more larva. He had to conserve his resources. The trees actually made for poor sources of energy for the Swarm. Somehow, they were not able to extract as much energy from plant life, so it took a lot of labor to gather usable biomass. Rygel had spent most of those resources on growing more drones, all of whom met an unfortunate end at the paws of this mindless beast.

He supposed he could count himself lucky the bear hadn't seen fit to tear apart his Hatchery and thus incur Kerrigan's wrath. Still, he had to do liberate his occupied Hatchery soon before she came calling again.

Yet how could he go back to the cave with Sir Calada keeping him close day and night?

'_I'll have to find a way to draw the bark bear towards us.'_

* * *

**End Notes**: No comment.


	5. XXI-XXV: Ambition to Contrition

June 3, 2013  
Not Proofread  
Written By RahXephon [847246]

**Author's Notes**: No comment.

* * *

_**The Zerg Triumvirate**_

_XXI – Ambition_

* * *

The Queen of Blades never truly died. Why should she? Her mind had transcended beyond the limits of flesh and blood, beyond the trappings of her mortal coil. She had learned well of the Overmind's spectacular demise, and devised a countermeasure should her foes succeed in cutting out the head of the snake.

It was not too complicated. The Zerg already came with psionic potential. To subsume one's mind in it was just a step that no one else save perhaps the Xel'Naga hadn't thought about. The Zerg Swarm was now a literal part of her, for she felt the breath of every drone, the bloodlust of every zergling and the death of every baneling. There was nothing at all about her children that she did not know. She was their Goddess.

Yet.. a small and insignificant part of her lamented the sacrifices she endured after acquiring and reacquiring her Zerg powers. She had given up so much to become the Queen of Blades, such as her humanity and the love of her life. She lost even more in her effort to surpass the Overmind and escape his eventual fate. Sarah Kerrigan endured all of it, throwing good after bad in her obsession with extinguishing the Mengsk dynasty.

The apple didn't fall far from the tree, it turned out. Prince Valerian, for all his benevolent appearance, was just as rotten to the core as his insane and bloodthirsty father. While Emperor Arcturus Mengsk behaved like a sledgehammer, smashing all of his opposition out of the way, Prince Valerian was a scalpel, surgically cutting out the most critical portions with minimum effort and maximum efficiency. The father and son duo turned out to be an excellent team. One striking from without, the other from within. James Raynor stood no chance, and neither did Zeratul and his annoying Xel'Naga prophecies.

With the Terrans ruled under Arcturus' fist, and the Protoss charmed by Valerian's glove, the Zerg had to fight on two fronts. While the Zerg was numerous and Kerrigan had never lost personally on the battlefield, her enemies were even more numerous and they possessed several talented leaders. With dismay, she saw how her worlds fell one by one even as she managed to secure the one she was on herself. Those minor victories proved to be pointless, as Arcturus brutally cut off her supply lines and nuked everything in sight.

Despite her brilliance and the vast resources of the Zerg at her command, she could do nothing to delay the advance. The broodmothers she left to command her flanks were unimaginative and lacked vision, and they became too predictable for their own good. The Zerg continued to fail her again and again until her entire body was annihilated from the impacts of hundreds of nukes on her primary hive cluster. At least the Mengsks didn't underestimate her capability to survive.

Too bad it was all irrelevant, for Sarah Kerrigan had ceased to be a mortal. She was, for all intents and purposes, a psionic life form, existing in a plane separate from the material universe. As long as even one creature of the Zerg survived, she maintained her anchor in that universe. Kerrigan refused to imagine what would happen should her Swarm ever be eradicated – the consequences were too horrific. But she would never let events progress that far. Not until she got her revenge.

The world of Ashantu was curious, in several ways. Its people were Terrans, almost genetically similar to the base stock on ancient Earth. If she didn't know better, some meddling aliens (likely the Xel'Naga) transplanted a couple of unlucky humans and dumped them into this playground to see how they fared. The challenges were certainly challenging – for these strange and wild beasts called Ravagers ruled most of the surface. Their unnatural powers easily overwhelmed the infant potential of the Terrans on Ashantu.

That power intrigued Kerrigan. She could feel it emanating from the soil, charging in the air, plucked out by the sentient and non-sentient life forms of this mudball planet. Even more intriguing was that it had no connection to psionics at all. This was an aspect of creation that the Koprulu Sector and – dare she guess – the Xel'Naga had no idea it even existed.

This was her second chance. The Zerg always adapted, and Kerrigan would adapt her Swarm to greater heights by absorbing this exotic power within her creatures. She also implemented other changes, one of which was to open the Swarm to more Terran minds. For all her Broodmothers' efforts, they proved sadly lacking against the ingenuity of her enemies. You couldn't grow brilliance out of an egg. You had to nurture it for years under hardship.

The Zerg adapted this by incorporating more Terrans into the ruling class. Of all her enemies, she admired the likes of Jim Raynor the most, who accomplished brilliant victories in spite of his limited resources. If Kerrigan could incorporate that same ingenuity, that spark of brilliance into her innumerable horde, she had an invincible army at her beck and call.

The only problem here was the chosen individuals themselves. All of them possessed problems. The woman in the North had a streak of arrogance befitting her former station, and she only grew worse the more she utilized her Zerg. The woman in the East was like a child in a candy shop – completely out of control and running wild like a Primal Zerg.

And the man in the West, well, he proved to be more disappointing with each passing day. The culmination of that ended with the death of all his drones and the occupation of his Hatchery by an overgrown bear of all things. If he had just figured out how to build a spawning pool and grow some zerglings, none of this would have happened.

Yet it was not her way to solve the problems that her eventual heirs should learn to solve on their own. What point was there to ride on their shoulders, giving out continuous hints from her vast experience on the battlefield? Let them nurture their own experience and grow their own tactics and strategy. Let them increase their understanding of the Zerg by their own explorations and grow more appreciative of each individual strain. Only when they have proven themselves worthy and conquered the four corners of Ashantu would she reveal herself fully to their primitive understanding.

For now, she adapted herself to the native culture's superstitions, and carried on her charade as the Goddess of Hunger. Though she came up with the moniker at a spur of the moment, she felt the description to be more than apt. She reveled in her insubstantial hunger. She wanted to filet Arcturus Mengsk. She wanted to feast upon the pretty boy corpse of his son. She wanted to devour the entire Koprulu Sector under her strengthened Swarm before sweeping the entire galaxy under her feet.

All of the races shall fear her insatiable appetite.

* * *

_XXII – Rescue_

* * *

Rygel squirmed on his horse and he thought over his plan. After several days of leisurely patrols, Sir Calada's path finally neared the cave he placed his Hatchery. This vicinity wouldn't last, and he had to figure out a way to rescue his Hatchery without exposing it to his master.

The most obvious way to do this was to lure the bark bear out. Rygel had prepared this while the Ravager was asleep. With his limited stockpile of resources, he gestated two precious drones and had them run out of the cave before the bear woke up. He then hid the drones between his patrol and the cave, ready to wake the bear and lure it out.

He snuck a glance at Calada in her working armor. Her plate armor encased her female form in a genderless suit of menace. Over the weeks, Rygel learned much of her personality. She was the consummate warrior who disdained femininity, and it showed in her armor with its sharp edges, dull silver glean and face covering helmet. If nobody knew beforehand that Calada was a woman, people would have thought she was a slim man. And that was just the way she liked it, and Rygel had learned more than a few times to keep his mouth shut about her identity when they encountered travelers on the road.

Yet for all her toughness, could she handle a bark bear in combat? He had too little experience to judge the situation, but the risk was surely substantial. Two man patrols like theirs were just there to scout of the lands and report sightings of unusual activity. Calada could easily decide to pull back and come back with greater reinforcements. That was bad because the expanded force might have it in themselves to explore the surroundings and find the Hatchery.

So with his stomach ill at ease, Rygel prepared to sabotage the coming situation to his advantage, and risk both their lives in a gamble that would see the Ravager destroyed. If he was lucky.

With great effort, he commanded his furthest drone to come out of hiding and approach the cave. The effort taxed him, as his connection to the Swarm was always faint while he stayed awake. The simple command sufficed, though, and the drone knew what to do. Diligently, the drones walked to its death by entering the cave and spitting a glob of acid straight into the Ravager's face. The instant it hit, the bark bear roared awake in pain and anger. This was the signal for the drone to turn back and run as fast as its little legs could in Rygel and Calada's direction.

"Hold!" Calada commanded, and both their horses halted on the dirt path they were following. "Do you hear that?"

Rygel put up his best clueless act. "What is it?"

"Quiet, boy! Let me listen.."

After a few minutes, Rygel _felt_ the bear's roar. The mighty call thrummed through Ashantu's soil and vibrated up his horse's legs.

"Ravager. A big one." The knight muttered, her raised faceplate glittering in the sun as she carefully honed her senses. "It's charging.. in our direction!"

She immediately detached the lance strapped to her horse. "Rygel! Turn back to Fort Resil and inform the Commander!"

"What about you?!" The man yelled back as he unsheathed his own sword. He didn't want to run away, not now.

"I'll take a separate route and lead the bear away from you. Now go!"

'_This isn't what I want!'_ The squire despaired. In full defiance of his orders, he spurred his horse after Calada. When he caught up with her, she glared back with fury.

"What are you doing here?! I have this under control! You're slowing me down!"

"You know as well as I do that whatever's coming is too big and too fast for you to run away." Rygel said back as he tried to hold onto his horse. "We stand a better chance together.

"Fucking idiot, I've survived worse. You're a liability here Rygel. Get out of my sight!"

"I'm not going away, Calada. I won't run away."

The knight released a growl that promised much pain if they ever survived, but Rygel ignored the threat and prepared himself for the bear. The lumbering sounds were audible now, and they approached the Warriors in rapid tempo. Seconds before the bear erupted from the foliage, Calada veered sideways and yelled, "Bark bear! Get out of his charge!"

Rygel's horse reacted faster than the rider and narrowly dodged the lethal claw that swiped its flank as it came out. Sensing no further prey beyond, the enraged bear halted in its tracks and turned to face the two newcomers. Calada tried to attract its attention by rearing her horse and dangling her spear.

"I'm the one you want, you overgrown bear! Face me!"

* * *

_XXIII – Bark Bear_

* * *

The bark bear was one of the many dangers prowling the forests of Brightfall and beyond. Strong, territorial and ferocious, their rampages were feared throughout the villages in the wilderness. However, since they tended to live in isolation and sleep for long periods of time, people didn't often encounter them. It was just bad luck that one nested here.

The beast growled at the two humans, its fangs dripping with saliva. Rygel had no doubt the bear massed at least four horses, and the Ravager had the strength to outrun them as well. There was no escape from this confrontation, not anymore. Its fur bristled at the threats, and its distinctive skin started to crack and harden until it looked like the bark of a tree – giving this type of Ravager its distinctive name.

"Bark bears have tough pelts, so don't bother slashing at it with your sword." Calada instructed, her tone all muffled and business-like now that she lowered her faceplate. "Keep your distance, circle round its rear and don't do anything fancy. Wait for me to damage its legs so we can retreat and come back with reinforcements. Of all else, stay alive and keep your horse unscathed. Trust its instincts. It has been trained for battles like this."

"What about you, ma'am?"

"I'll keep its attention." And she left it at that, now just waiting for the bear to pounce.

The dread creature's patience ran out quickly, and it charged right at Calada. Instead of retreating, she commanded her horse to move forward while holding out her lance in the bear's direction. The creature ignored the danger and it cost him a lot as the tip speared its shoulder, penetrating through the hard bark with the power of its own forward momentum. Calada viciously tore her lance free and attempted to impale the wounded creature again, but before she could do so the bear growled and slapped the lance away, ripping it from Calada's hand.

"Shit!" She cursed, and moved back to create more distance. She unslung a javelin and with Zorandar's strength, she threw it at the bear. The creature, occupied by its own pain, yowled as the wide tip speared past its bark skin and up its flank.

That was clever of Calada, because if the spear was stuck inside the flesh, the bear couldn't heal from the wound. Before it could turn its animal intelligence towards removing the javelin, Calada drew her spear and strafed the bear, slashing its side with her sword, though the bark over its skin already started healing over. The knight took no mind of it and turned around to make another pass.

Having had enough of sitting still, Rygel drew his own sword and commanded his horse to make his own pass on the other side of the bear's flank. He leaned sideways and scored his sword along the bear's sides, yet despite his swing the blade just scraped alongside the bark.

"Rygel, don't do anything stupid! You don't have any mounted training!"

He ignored her warning and tried to think what went wrong. He was sure he swung his sword in the right direction. With the momentum of his horse, he should have bit deeper into the bear's thick skin. _'But I'm not using Zorandar's strength. It will take the power of the Gods to take down a child of Lamarantia.'_

He knew what to do now. Even as Calada furiously tried to attract attention away from her squire, Rygel called up his anger at the bear. It was easy this time to call his rage. Just thinking about all the drones the bark bear slaughtered evoked intense feelings of retribution. That same feeling when Sir Deacon was slaughtered by the Blackgrove bow master. With righteous purpose, Rygel silently prayed to Kerrigan and Zorandar and charged again, his muscles tensing with Sir Deacon's borrowed strength.

This time he swung again, and this time his sword cut deep, parting the tough bark exterior like a hot knife through butter. Rygel was sure he cut through mounds of flesh and fat by the time he wrenched his sword free. The bear roared, struck on the other side right after by Calada. The Ravager's blood flowed freely now, its wounds too numerous to heal by itself. With angry, red eyes it released another roar and without any sense or reason charged straight at Rygel.

"Rygel! Get out of its way! Jump!"

The squire was too confused to do anything, but his horse had no wish to get itself splattered. With a frightened neigh, the mount cantered forward and to the left, though this time it wasn't enough to escape the bear's ravenous paw. Heavy claws scored its body, missing Rygel's leg by a breath. Yet that was enough for it to buck and coil and throw Rygel off.

"Agh!" He cried as his heavy armor caused him to land roughly. His sword clattered away as he lost grip of it during the impact.

"Rygel!"

He opened his eyes and saw the bear staring down at him as if he was just another meal. Quickly he clambered over to his sword, then picked up his body.

"Just run!" Calada hollered, and spurred her horse to make another pass.

Yet the bear wasn't content to sit around, not with its prey on his feet. The bear hobbled over with its four strong limbs, blood creasing their surface but not enough to slow it down too much. Rygel stood his ground, not willing to let this murderer of the Zerg get away. With the remnants of his fast-depleting strength, he took a few steps forward and met the rushing bear with an overhand slash, turning his body with the motion for a wide and powerful swing. Just as the bear reared itself up to free both its limbs to strike, the sword bit deep into its chest, ripping through the softer bark on the underside and splitting a few ribs in the process.

The bear roared in pain, weaker this time, but its battle instincts were still intact. As Rygel hurried to recover from his unbalanced swing, the bear snapped forward and smacked him brutally in the shoulder, ripping through the steel as if it was nothing and heavily tearing into the flesh and bone. With that single swing, the bear mangled Rygel's arm beyond recognition, forcing him to drop his sword and tumble away.

Sensing the imminent death, the bear breathed erratically as it readied its maw for a lunge. Rygel crawled back, willing to make some distance despite his ruined arm.

Then Calada appeared from above. She had jumped from the saddle of her horse and plunged down on top of the bark bear with her blade aimed down. Her sword impaled itself into the bark bear's neck, severing the spine and almost instantly claimed its life.

Seeing that the deed was done, Rygel allowed himself to relax even as his body wracked in pain trying to heal from his wounds. He smiled apologetically as Calada raised her faceplate to view at him with a mixture of anger and anguish. "Not bad for our first fight, ma'am…"

"You idiot. You disobeyed a direct order. You are in so much trouble, you know that?"

"I'm.. not one for orders.."

"I noticed." She said softly, and knelt by his side to inspect his debilitating shoulder wound. "It doesn't look fatal. Zorandar's Blessing is already taking care of the bleeding. Good. You'll be alive long enough to get a chewing out."

"Good.. I'm looking forward to it.."

Rygel then promptly passed out.

* * *

_XXIV – Expectation_

* * *

Sir Calada scowled as she let Fort Resil's servants carry her squire back to his cot. Though his wounds against the bark bear had long ago healed over, his partially ruined armor was a testament to how close he came to death. _'Reckless. Absolutely reckless. What was that idiot boy thinking?!'_

Commander Borius gazed down at him from the steps to the keep, and gestured with his head to follow him. Grimacing, the female Warrior headed up the steps to enter, her metal boots clanking loudly against the cool, black stone. She calmly followed her superior back to his office, her helmet held at her side. When they made themselves comfortable, Borius looked at Calada with a grave expression.

"Tell me what happened."

His subordinate recounted the patrol in stoic words. She left nothing out, minced no words and even admitted her own shortcomings.

"Squire Rygel lacked too much discipline, something I've not been able to address. He simply wasn't ready, and I should have recognized that. Instead I was too eager to go back out in the field, and exposed him to dangers he wasn't properly prepared for. I take full responsibility for this mistake."

"All is well, Sir Calada." Borius reassured her gently. "I see no dishonor in your actions. We have all taken a calculated risk in letting the squire join you in your patrols at his untrained stage, and it is my mistake to bear as well."

Calada looked relieved at his words, but still looked miserable.

"As you know, Calada, tensions between our eastern border is rising. We need every Warrior we have in the coming months and I can't afford to put you nor your squire out of the patrol rotation, not with the recent losses we sustained."

"But Rygel's an impulsive brat! You can't expect me to babysit him out in the middle of Ravager territory!"

"The squire will have to learn how to handle himself." Commander Borius bit back. "He is tough and he heals quick. That allows us to expose him to a greater degree of danger than our other recruits. Already Brightfall has taken note of his gifts and has made plans for them. They want us to train him hard."

'_Fucking city dwellers!' _Calada scowled, hating the intervention from nobles in a distant city. "So the clans are already trying to stake their claim on him?"

The clans were the ruling factions of the Great Cities. They were not necessarily related, but banded together in mutual protection and patronage. There was strength in numbers, after all, and one didn't survive long as a Warrior or a Mage without the backing of some of their more well-connected fellows.

"Not as such." Borius temporized, being careful with his words in order to avoid the perception of bias. He was a Clan Korlak man himself and they were intense rivals of Clan Greystar, of which Calada and a great many number were part of. "I've sent a fair assessment to Clan Korlak, and they have expressed an interest in young Rygel's hidden potential. His two apparent gifts make him a peculiarity, but coupled with demonstrable strength he could be molded into a powerful asset in time."

"He's my squire for the duration of his training, and so long as I'm in charge of him, I won't tolerate any recruiting efforts." Calada scathed his superior as memories with her own ill-dealings with Clan Greystar came to mind. Her relationship with the more upper-crust members of the clan was not pleasant, to say the least. She detested the rank politics that went on in the Great Cities and was glad to be away from it all. A border fort like Resil was her real home.

The Commander closed the subject and turned to another matter. "It might do better for Rygel to learn some responsibility. I'll modify the patrol schedule and switch you to a foot patrol."

This darkened the woman's face. "You want me.. to be in charge of commoners..? You.. you can't _do_ that to me.."

The nightmares haunted her still. She remembered the haunted faces, their pleading expressions to end their suffering.

"You need to move on, Cal. This is as much for your own good as Rygel's. Your potential is squandered right now. With all the losses we've sustained so far, we need good people like you who can think as well as fight."

She could not refuse him. Not when he needed her this badly. So with a heavy heart, she nodded solemnly. "I will do as you ask, sir."

Her words rang hollow.

* * *

_XXV – Contrition_

* * *

'_Strange.'_ Rygel thought as he faded from his dreams. He had spent a long time reorganizing his devastated Hive by regrowing more drones and finding out a way to add more protection. Kerrigan was stubbornly silent on the matter and answered none of his prayers, leaving him to figure it all out on his own.

He learned a few new things, he supposed. The Hatchery, it appeared, was only in its first incarnation. It could be.. changed.. in some fashion, allowing the Swarm to adopt more sophisticated forms. This led to an exploration that hinted at many bizarre shapes that could only be more combat forms. A snake that stood upright. A bloated worm with a glowing hide. Massive flying creatures accompanied by a brood of younglings. All of these and more hinted at the incredible potential of the Zerg, and it was so frustrating for Rygel not to see them in their full glory.

At least he understood better now that all of this complexity came at a price. The Hatchery could not support all of the requirements needed to form these alien creatures.

In fact, at this stage, all Rygel could create were more drones and some larger creature that appeared to do nothing but float in the sky and act as a giant signpost revealing the position of his nascent hive. That would just not do. Until he could figure out more about these ominous-sounding 'overlords', he was content to leave them be and grow more drones.

What he needed instead were guardians, footsoldiers to protect the drones while they stripped the nearby lands of their resources. In order to figure out how to grow them from his larva, he meditated first and foremost on what those creatures looked like and what they were called.

It came fairly easily. The zerglings were perhaps the most numerous and most definable trait of the Swarm. Out of all the strange and exotic creatures that made up the armies of the Goddess of Hunger, the zerglings were the epitome of her image. Small, ravenous, and utterly endless, these formidable creatures had overwhelmed many competent armies by sheer numbers.

Rygel cared little for the fact that they were the simplest of creatures, for he needed protection quickly before a mate or another relative of the bark bear came calling back. From his focus on the zergling, it was easy enough to trace back their origins to a strange, glowing green puddle in the ground. _'A spawning pool.'_

It took an inordinate amount of time for him to figure out how to build such a feature. He had his drones crawl back and forth, trying various spaces to no avail. They couldn't build it despite the ample resources he had built up. Finally, after much frustration, a drone interpreted his desires strongly enough to transform itself into some kind of large egg. The moment Rygel saw that, he felt incredibly embarrassed. _'The drones don't build! They grow!'_

The instant the construction started, he could feel a huge amount of biological matter left the Hatchery. _'This is worrying. I'll need to save enough resources to grow a good number of zerglings by the time the spawning pool is finished.'_

Feeling proud of himself, he finally returned to the waking world to find himself back at his cot with his armor removed. He shrugged at that and followed his normal routine, washing his days-old sweat before enjoying a hearty breakfast. Even that little mage apprentice's cool stares didn't bother him too much.

"I can't believe this backwater hick town lacks even a single, decent chef!" She angrily shrilled at the other squires and young Warriors at the junior table. "You think this is adequate food? There's not even a single pinch of foreign seasoning!"

Yet even her complaints didn't sully his mood. Only when he was finished and reported to Sir Calada did he met disapproval.

"Squire Rygel, we need to have a word."

She led him from the training courtyard to an isolated corner. The only sounds they could hear from here were the rhythmic clangs of practice swords and the faint sounds of heavy armor crunching together. Sir Calada looked at Rygel with an admonishing eye, and the man still had enough humility to look somewhat sheepish.

"You have acted beyond reckless in our last encounter. Instead of obeying my direct orders to return to Fort Resil and send for reinforcements, you stayed in the fight. Can you tell me how that has affected my performance?"

He wasn't stupid, and now that the fight was more distant, he had the sense to show his contrition. Still, Rygel didn't apologize for his actions. He needed to kill the bark bear without leading the garrison of Fort Resil to his unprotected hive. "I know I did stupid, I see that now ma'am. By sticking around, you couldn't lead the bear away without risking it turning on me. You also needed to kill the bear with dangerous maneuvers instead of playing it safe and stalling for time."

"If you knew all that, why did you disobey me?"

"I.. thought I could help." He replied lamely.

Surprisingly, her expression softened, and she rubbed her gauntlet over Rygel's messy black hair. "I know your intentions were noble, but they were misguided. I can't allow you to act so foolishly again. Commander Borius has changed the patrol schedule. Starting tomorrow, we'll be patrolling the roads with a squad of ten commoners."

That brought a small amount of trepidation in Rygel's stomach. Would these career soldiers accept Rygel's status as a Warrior? Or would they consider him as an oddity, an overgrown squire playing at war?

"Furthermore," Calada continued, her expression cooling somewhat. "Borius was quite upset you lost your horse. They're very expensive to feed, and the one you rode on was magnificently trained. To lose them in an avoidable encounter like this was a disgrace, so for the foreseeable time, your riding privileges are revoked. We'll be patrolling the roads entirely on foot."

He nodded, accepting the punishment. It wasn't like he had grown attached to the beasts.

"Very well." Calada nodded, and gestured for him to follow her. "Let's get on with training now. Since our last fight, I think it's time to introduce you with some ranged options. I've set aside some javelins for you to throw. Don't do too badly and you won't miss supper."

Despite the discussion earlier, Rygel found much to smile at. He had escaped Kerrigan's retribution and Calada hadn't punished him hard. For now, he couldn't wait to see his spawning pool and grow his first zerglings.

* * *

**End Notes**: No comment.


End file.
